Less than Beautiful
by KT the Shimmer Skank
Summary: The wanting. The emptiness. The pretending. It was all a part of who I was, and I embraced it without question." [a Kate story] COMPLETE
1. Opening

Disclaimer: I own no part of Lizzie McGuire, and I certainly don't make any profit from this.  
  
Notes: This is set in the Ninth grade. Events from the movie are not taken into consideration (the majority of the story was written before I saw the movie), other than the fact that Lizzie went to Rome and hooked up with Gordo; this is a minor detail of the story and is addressed in a later chapter.  
  
Warnings: This story is rated PG-13 for language, drug and alcohol references, non-explicit sexual content, and themes involving mild bisexuality. Mild slash in later chapters.  
  
*5-23-03 Updated Author's Note: I don't usually respond to flames, because I find it fruitless and immature, but on this occasion I'll defend myself. I am a Lizzie McGuire fan AND a lover of writing just like everyone else. My subject matter is not always normal and it can be harsh at times, but that doesn't mean anyone has a right to tell me what I can and cannot write. My stories are rated appropriately AND I always give a warning of questionable content my story contains. **So, to new readers: Please read the above "Warnings" carefully. If you don't like what you see, then don't read. Thank you.  
  
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I felt Ethan's arm pull me nearer to him. I took in a breath of his pleasant scent, and felt secure in the warmth of his embrace. We weren't looking at or even speaking to one another, but it was important for us to look cute and couple-ish. We were gathered in a circle of friends in the courtyard. Ethan was impressing a group of boys with some story of his, while I listened to Claire tell the girls her experience with highlighting her own hair. I smiled and nodded at the appropriate times, nonchalantly leaning up against my boyfriend and pretending like I didn't notice the painfully jealous looks on the faces of my peers that passed by our circle.  
  
It's an amusing game to me. Observing the world while playing it off as though I'm too special to actually give a damn. I thrive on the feeling of being desired, and being envied. As long as I have something that everyone else wants, I have power. And I always have something that someone else wants.  
  
I saw her. Out of the corner of my eye I saw blonde hair in the distance, and I knew in a moment that it was Lizzie. I couldn't turn my head to actually look at her, but I knew she was probably standing with Miranda and gawking over Ethan. I looked over at Ethan and pretended to be suddenly interested in the things he was saying. I giggled lightly and laid my head on his shoulder. I noticed a flicker in the eyes of some of Ethan's friends, particularly Nic Barnum, that pleased me. It was the look of wanting, the look of craving for what they didn't have.  
  
But Ethan's friends didn't really matter to me. It was Lizzie I was trying to get to. I knew how bad she had for it Ethan. Plenty of girls were in love with him, but Lizzie craved him. I got pleasure from her frustration with the fact that Ethan was completely unattainable. I took a chance to give a quick look in her direction; just as I'd hoped, she frowned at the sight of me and Ethan.  
  
*That's right, Lizzie,* I thought to myself. *I have something you want* It's so typical for people to want what they can't have. That's a feeling I know all too well. I watched from afar while Lizzie walked away, feeling sorry for herself. It was all I could do, really. Making her jealous, and making her hurt, was just another one of the ways I amused myself. I wanted to make her feel the craving that I felt, the wanting that would never be satisfied.  
  
She was soon gone, out of my line of sight completely. I was notably more empty inside when I could no longer feel her watching me. But I was okay with that. The wanting. The emptiness. The pretending. It was all part of who I was, and I embraced it without question. 


	2. One: Rules of the Game

I carefully examined my nails in class as Lizzie, in the desk across from mine, chattered excitedly to Miranda about how a Junior told her her shoes were nice. She spoke of it as if it was the most exciting thing that had happened to her all week; as I thought about it, I realized it probably was. What a joy it must have been for her, to be recognized by someone that wasn't Gordo or Miranda. Lizzie was one of those who got lost in the sea of high school. She had charisma, that was certain, but she was also hopelessly without grace.  
  
Claire, beside me, was grinning evilly as she listened to Lizzie's pathetic story. I sighed and quickly cut in, "You know, that's just peachy, McGuire, but do you think we could get this going sometime today?"  
  
Lizzie rolled her eyes and abruptly stopped speaking. We had just been assigned a group project in Mythology. My group was responsible for the Greek gods and goddesses, and it consisted of Claire, Lizzie and Miranda.  
  
"All right," said Lizzie. She glanced quickly at Miranda; they exchanged a brief look of understanding. I could tell they were both upset about being in a group with me. I grinned inwardly with the knowledge that they feared me. Lizzie continued. "Let's go ahead and divide up the research." She pulled out our rubric and started skimming down the list.  
  
"Aren't you just a natural-born leader," Claire snarled. "I think we can divide the work up for ourselves, thanks." She snatched the paper from Lizzie's hand and leaned towards me. We looked over the list and chose what we wanted, and handed it back to her, leaving what was left for Lizzie and Miranda. Miranda pursed her lips to spit out one of her snappy retorts, but she stopped herself. She had always had a persistent attitude, but she had been extremely subdued since coming to high school. Some people just failed to live up to their own hype.  
  
While we were supposed to be digging through encyclopedias, Claire and I discussed the details of our "glamorous" lives. I made a point to touch upon subjects, like Ethan and cheerleading, that I knew would get under Lizzie's skin. I snuck glances at her every now and again. Blonde strands of hair fell across her face, and her soft lips were trying to conceal a frustrated pout. I felt myself wishing I could just freeze time for a moment, so I could take a moment to examine the complexity of Lizzie's features. But that wasn't the way it worked. I had to avoid looking at her, had to make her feel like I was completely unaware of her existence.  
  
"We'll have to meet afterschool one day," Lizzie interrupted. "To put everything together."  
  
"We'll do at my house, naturally," I offered, careful not to even glance in her direction. "I certainly don't want to be caught dead in McGuire's neighborhood."  
  
Claire laughed and nodded in agreement. I looked over and realized what she had been doing for the past few minutes; I had been so caught up in my thoughts I wasn't even paying attention to her. "Claire!" I snapped. She been drawing decorative hearts and stars all over my hand with a pink gel pen. I tried to rub it off. "I have to go the rest of the day with this mess all over my hand. Who writes on theirself, Claire?! How skanky."  
  
Miranda shifted slightly in her seat, trying to conceal the history notes she had marked all over her own hand.  
  
"Sorry," Claire mumbled. "I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing."  
  
"I'll say you weren't."  
  
The bell rang. Lizzie and Miranda gathered up their books quickly, obviously eager to get away from us. I pulled out my compact and re-applied my lip gloss. I glanced over and saw that Claire really did look sorry. "Ugh, quit looking so pitiful," I told her, snapping the compact shut and shoving it back into my bag. "It's not that big a deal. Let's try and go wash it off." She nodded and we left the classroom, flipping our hair as we turned the corner. I was pissed off at Claire for writing on me, but I couldn't really stay mad at my partner in evil. Besides, anger makes hideous wrinkles in my forehead.  
  
* * * *  
  
I got off the bus that afternoon and walked up the winding cobblestone sidewalk to my house. When I unlocked the door, I heard the echo of my entrance throughout the silent house. There was hardly ever a time when I didn't come home to an empty house. It was one of the feelings I detested more than anything else. Getting off a bus crowded with people and conversations, and then stepping into my house where I was completely alone, made my emotions plummitt. I craved socialization. I needed to be with people. Occasionally Amy was around, being the one who took care of me and all, but she was usually out with her friends.  
  
I tossed my backpack in the middle of the floor. What did I care? It's not like I had a mother around to tell me not to leave things in the floor. Sometimes I wished I didn't have as much freedom as I did. I wanted my mother on my case all the time, asking me questions. I wanted her to want to know things about me. Keep track of who I was hanging out with. Ask me how my day was.  
  
I slid onto my bed and wrapped my arm around one of my pink pillows. I never got used to the silence. Most people my age liked having time to themselves, but there was something in me that always itched to have people around. People fascinate me. If you pay close enough attention to them, you begin to see patterns in the way they act. You start to learn how to say exactly what people want to hear, or don't want to hear, as the case may be. If you understand people well enough, you'll know the things to do and say that will get them to feel however you want them to feel. That's what made me such a powerful person in the high school world. I knew people, I knew how all these games were played.  
  
Of course, things weren't always perfect. No one's that good. There would always be some things out of my reach. I had to accept that, even though I pushed the limit whenever I could. The side of me I never let anyone see, is that there are always some things I hold back. I have extreme ambition, and I hate not having my way. But there were some things... There were some things I simply had to keep secret. My games were simple to play, if you understood the rules, but I knew that some of my desires threatened the entire fabric of it all. There were some pieces of Kate Sanders that I could never let anyone see.  
  
The lonliness and the boredom eventually got to me. I reached over and picked up my phone to give Ethan a call. When I asked him to come over, he asked if he could bring some friends along. I said sure. It's not like there was anyone around to tell me otherwise. 


	3. Two: Company

Author's Warning: There is drug use in this chapter, though still within the PG-13 rating.  
  
Hours later, I was sitting stoned in my living room with Ethan, Nic, and Nic's brother Jordan. Jordan and I had a very mutual friendship. I let him get high in my extremely nice house and raid the well-stocked refridgerator, and he, in turn, shared his weed with me and supported my social status by being a Junior who approved of me. Just another one of my clever connections.  
  
Jordan was sitting in a recliner with a bowl of M&Ms, and Nic was on the floor, rolling around every now and again whenever he erupted into laughter. Ethan played with my hair as I laid across the couch with my head in his lap. Ethan has a sort of infatuation with hair, which works out well since I have alot of it. He was the only one out of the four of us who wasn't high. People seem to have this notion that Ethan is a complete stoner, but in actuality, he won't touch the stuff. By the way he acts, you would really think he is one, but his simple-mindedness is completely natural.  
  
It's immensely difficult to feel lonely or bored when you're high. Everyone tends to be everyone else's friend when they're high, and the laughter is just endless. As the talking and giggles surrounded me, it was easy to forget how lonley I could be sometimes. Ethan's fingers through my hair relaxed me as Jordan entertained me with stories that normally would have made no sense at all, but now seemed incredibly funny. It was a feeling of floating and absolute comfort.  
  
My mind wandered, and I started to think what Lizzie might be like high. I giggled dreamily at the thought. She was a talkative and clumsy girl by nature, and I imagined marijuana would only magnify those traits. I tried to visualize the scenario in my head. I pictured Lizzie, stumbling about with laughter (much as Nic was doing at the moment), and at last crashing into my arms. I imagined myself combing my fingers through her hair as she rested her head in my lap, and listening as she rambled on about the winding thoughts inside her head.  
  
"Dude!" said Jordan, digging through the shelves beside the TV. "You have got a sweet mess of games here."  
  
"They're Amy's," I replied dreamily as he admired her collection of PlayStation 2 games. Ethan got up, and joined Nic and Jordan. They quickly became wrapped up in video games.  
  
I curled up in a ball on one corner of the couch. I became lost in fantasies of hearing all that Lizzie could tell me. My fascination with Lizzie was endless. It began during our middle school years, when I was particularly cruel to her. For some reason, she was always willing to help me, no matter how badly I treated her in return. I was awestruck by her selflessness and compassion. When no one else was looking, we got along so well. There was a connection between us, though I was too set on my social goals to accept her.  
  
When we started high school, an infatuation started to grow. I didn't understand why, but I craved to know more about her. I suppose it's because I knew I could never be friends with her. There were rules to maintaining my world, and being enemies with Lizzie McGuire was one of them. I could never be close to her, never be a part of the magic that followed her. That knowledge made me all the more enamored of her.  
  
I picked up a blue pen that was lying on the coffee table and wrote out her name on my hand in delicate, twisting letters. I stared at the name, and thought about all the different things it meant to me. There were two ways to look at it. First, Lizzie was my rival. She was the person that I could never let trip me up, and that I was constantly butting heads with. Even though I was secretly intrigued by her, I still felt motivated to oppose her. Making her jealous and miserable was all a part of the game. Every time something went wrong for her, things were all the better for me.  
  
I started drawing a lacy heart around the name. The flipside of it was that I constantly found her on my mind. She stirred up emotions in me, drove me to thoughts I never would have imagined having. My infatuation with Lizzie was the secret part of me. The emotions that I buried for her were powerful and somewhat sacred. When I felt like crap, I could use those emotions to lift my spirits and get me through dark times.  
  
It was around 10:30 that Amy came home. She angrily barked at my friends to leave, which they reluctantly did. She half-heartedly yelled at me and told me I shouldn't have people over that late on a school night, but in all honesty I think she was really only mad because they were touching her precious PlayStation.  
  
I got up from the couch and wandered into the kitchen. I pulled out bread and a jar of peanut butter from the cabinets, and noticed the red light on the answering machine was blinking. I hit play as I started spreading the peanut butter.  
  
"Kate, it's Mom," said the machine. I groaned and spread my peanut butter more ferociously. "Things are a little hectic here, but your dad got the Freeman account. Isn't that fabulous? Turns out they want to get started as soon as possible, so we'll be here for a few more days. See you when we see you, probably Tuesday. Call us if you guys need extra cash. Love you. Kisses."  
  
I took an angry bite of my sandwich. I wasn't upset that my parent's would be gone longer; this was no great shock to me. What frustrated me was that my mother actually made it sound like it was a good thing. She actually wanted me to happy for them. She was absolutely clueless to the fact that I might need something more than "extra cash" while they were away. My feelings never seemed to cross her mind whenever she and Dad were on these business trips.  
  
Amy walked in and started looking through the cabinets for a snack. "Did I just hear your mom's voice?" she asked.  
  
"They'll be out of town a few more days," I told her, bitterly chewing my sandwich. "We're supposed to call if we need more cash."  
  
"Oh, sweet!" she said. Amy, of course, was the last person I would ever expect to sympathize with my situation. The longer my parents were away, the more fun she got to have at their expense.  
  
After finishing my sandwich, I went upstairs and took a long shower. By the time I got in bed it was 11:30. Even when I laid down, I couldn't get to sleep. It sounds shallow, but the most frustrating thing of all was how little sleep I knew I'd get that night. It was important to me to be well- rested, so I could look fresh the next day. I put a high value on the concept of beauty sleep. That night, though, my mind was teeming with all sorts of thoughts, and sleep did not come easily. 


	4. Three: Beautification

I woke up at 6:00 the next morning to begin my routine. My morning ritual was a delicate, step-by-step process of beatification. I'm not a morning person, and I never have been, but for some reason I see it as a duty to wake up at the crack of dawn and perfect myself for the world.  
  
I got out of bed and stretched a bit; I heard Amy's monstrous snores from her room down the hall. I sat down at my vanity and turned on the obnoxiously bright lights around the mirror. I twisted my mass of blonde hair into a bun and brushed the little wispies away from my face. My skin was, at this point, untouched by cosmetics. To see myself in the morning, deflated and unpainted, was the most definite sign that I was alone. I would never let anyone see my like that; I considered such a thing to be a weakness.  
  
I started to cover my skin with foundation, so that no one would have to see the tiredness that laced my face. I defined my eyes with dark liner, accented my cheeks with blush. I painted my lips with soft pink gloss, and laughed inwardly at how Nic was always eyeing my lips. It was remarkable how simple a thing like lip gloss and perfecting the right pout could so easily mesmerize a boy. Lastly, I added shimmery blue powder lightly to my eyelids. This was my favorite part. There was something about eyeshadow... it was like fairy dust. It made the skin around my eyes look like rich silk.  
  
Next was hair. It was a tedious process, trying to roll my extremely long hair into individual ringlets, but I'd been doing it everyday since the seventh grad. It didn't phase me. Perhaps the only useful thing my mother ever taught me was the proper way to curl hair. That's a heavy irony to deal with: the one person who I count on the least is the person who taught me my most powerful tool in life, beauty.  
  
At 7:00, I was glossed over and looking beautiful for the day. I stood in front of my full-length mirror as I undressed. I paused for a moment to look at myself. I had been fortunate enough to acquire my woman-ish curves early on. Could I be any more flawless? I had often heard people call me conceited behind my back (and occasionally to my face.) They were right, I believe, but I had good reason. One of the things I prided myself on was perfection. I had the equipment, and I knew how to use it.  
  
Girls are beautiful creatures, I thought to myself as I studied my own reflection. They have curves, and eyes, and the softest of skin. One thing that absolutely made me sick to see was a girl who didn't know the full potential of her beauty. If girls like that only knew the secrets I knew, they would understand the strength that is found in beauty. I can't pity them too much, though. After all, what's the fun in being beautiful if there aren't any ugly people to walk all over? Never show them weakness, only show them beauty. That was my most important rule.  
  
I put on my cheerleading outfit, tied a sparkly blue ribbon in my hair, and added an extra coat of lip gloss for good measure. It was Friday, game day, a day when I shone as I walked through the hallways. I checked myself over once more, to make sure I was perfect, before grabbing my backpack and heading outside.  
  
Amy gave a loud and unpleasant snore as I passed her room. It would have been nice if she had ever bothered to get out of bed before noon, so that she could give me a ride to school. However, that was far too much to ask of my free-loading cousin. Why bother getting up early if you don't have a job? I suppose riding the bus wasn't too terrible, though, for it was yet another opportunity to socialize.  
  
* * * *  
  
It was lunch. I sat in Ethan's lap on a bench in the courtyard, laughing with my friends as always. Jordan and part of his clique had wandered over to us, so I was careful to be just as charming as I could. Much to my annoyance, Ethan began indiscretely kissing my neck. It would have been fine if there were only Freshman around, but such was not the case. I certainly didn't want to look like a giddy little whore in front of Juniors; it was important for me to be mature in front of these people. I kicked him quietly in the shins, hoping he'd take the hint.  
  
Then I remembered that Ethan was not the brightest crayon in the box, and that taking even the most obvious of hints was not his strong point. He continued to peck at my neck. I plastered a smile on my face and tried to ignore it as I thought to myself, If he gives me a hickie on game day I'll beat him to a pulp. I giggled and made friendly chatter with the Juniors before they finally moved on to socialize with someone else.  
  
Ethan had already made his way to my shoulders by the time they had left. I turned to him and hissed under my breath, "Are you out of your mind, Ethan? If I have to cheer in front of the whole school tonight with hideous sucking-marks all over my neck..."  
  
But Ethan wasn't listening. He was staring at my hand, which had apparently caught his eye. His brow was curled in confusion as he examined it. "What is this?" he asked with innocent curiosity.  
  
I froze. My hand... I'd forgotten to wash my hand. Complete and utter fear filled me to the brim. How could I have been so stupid? The edge of the lacy heart and bits of Lizzie's name still lingered in faded blue ink across my hand.  
  
I snatched it away quickly. Ethan stared at me, dumbfounded. I choked on my own words. He hadn't been able to make sense of the half-faded message, but the fact that he had come so close to seeing what I had written sent chills down my back. What would he have thought? What would people have said if they'd seen "LIZZIE" emblazoned across my hand, surrounded by an enormous heart of lace? The thought made me sick to my stomach.  
  
I broke away from Ethan's embrace. I kept staring at the ground as I ran; I didn't want to make eye contact with anyone. I darted towards the bathroom and clutched my hand tightly to my chest. My secret. My deepest, darkest secret was written all over my hand. I threw open the bathroom door, and thanked god there was no one else in there. I clutched the sides of the sink. I was shaking.  
  
I turned on the water and let it pour down the drain for a moment. I was furious with myself. I had the sudden urge to splash water over my face, to get a hold of myself, but I couldn't do that. There was no way I would risk washing off my make-up. Instead I had to shake it off myself. I held back tears, and took a deep breath.  
  
I scrubbed my hand until it was raw red, and there was no longer the slightest hint of blue. 


	5. Four: Cheerleading

Even though I'd spent the rest of lunch washing my hand, I kept glancing nervously at it throughout my next class. I was extremely paranoid. I was usually so careful when it came to making sure that my secrets stayed secret. I maintained an image when I was around people, and I was very good at not breaking it. So how could I have gone all morning without noticing something so major? My carelessness was unnerving.  
  
"Okay. Go ahead, one row at a time, and get your materials from the back table," said my science teacher. These instructions brought me back from my thoughts. We were supposed to get everything we needed to begin the lab; I hadn't really been paying attention, but Larry Tudgemen was my partner, so I wasn't worried in the slightest. As I strolled over to the back table, I noticed Nic walking closely behind me.  
  
"Hey, Kate," he said quietly as we started pulling out sticks of litmus paper.  
  
"Hey," I said airily.  
  
"I saw you run off at lunch. Are you okay?" His voice was sticky sweet, like left-over maple syrup. He was trying to sound genuinely concerned, but he was very bad at faking sincerity. Besides, I had seen him peering down my shirt earlier in class.  
  
I wasn't fooled, but I played along nonetheless. "I'm fine. I was worried I'd gotten ketchup on my uniform, so I went to the bathroom to check." I suddenly became aware of Miranda, who was standing a few feet away from us. She was trying to look extremely interested in the bowl of cotton balls, but I was certain she was eavesdropping.  
  
"But you weren't eating anything with ketchup on it, Kate."  
  
I made eye-contact with him for the first time. I gazed at him confidently, giving him a look that let him know it wasn't smart to try and argue with me. "You're right, I wasn't. But one of your brother's friends was, and he was standing right next to me. I certainly hope you're not trying to imply that I'm lying, Nic."  
  
He looked away, cowering down a bit under my intimidating gaze. "No way. I know you wouldn't do something like that." He slipped back into his sugary ass-kissing voice again. "But, listen, Kate. I noticed Ethan was a little, well... frisky with you at lunch. I could tell it was making you uncomfortable." I rolled my eyes at him, but he continued. He seemed quite convinced that I was eating all this bull shit right out of the palm of his hand. "I'm not accusing anyone, of course. I don't want to butt into something that's none of my business. Ethan's my best friend, after all." He looked up at me with sappy, phony eyes. I recognized the look immediately; I invented that look, for Christ's sake. He moved ever-so- slightly closer to me. "But you're my friend, too, Kate. You know that if Ethan ever pushes you, I'm here for you, right?"  
  
Inside, I was laughing hysterically. The predictability of some people can be sickening. I had known for awhile now that Nic had been wanting me. The fact that I was his best friend's girlfriend of six months, and practically unreachable to him, had likely made me even more desirable; an intriguing challenge, perhaps, in his mind. I was tremendously amused by how tactless he had been. The minute he spotted a weak point, as soon as Ethan wasn't around, he moved in for the kill. I had to admit to myself, though, that my best friend would probably do the same thing. Claire wouldn't hesitate to snatch up Ethan if she ever had the chance.  
  
Doesn't anyone have a sense of loyalty to the ones they care about? I thought cynically to myself. I then recognized the irony and absurdity of my own question. I, of all people, knew that to be attached to someone was a weakness.  
  
Nic reached out and touched my shoulder lightly. When he saw my eyes, however, he quickly removed it. Ambitious as he was, he still couldn't perform well under the pressure of my icy glare. "Just wanted you to know I'm looking out for you."  
  
I shrugged indifferently. "Whatever." I walked away with a flip of my hair.  
  
* * * *  
  
Near 4:00 that afternoon, I was sitting around in a clump of cheerleaders in one corner of the football field. We were an explosion of royal blue against the freshly-cut green grass. Teenage girl chatter buzzed around me as I sat beneath the scorching sun. I could feel salty sweat accumulating in my thick hair, and I already knew I would have to completely re-curl it before the game that night. Senior Penny Hawkens, our co-captain, was squatting beside me, painting "Go Cats!" on my cheek. The cold blue paint felt soothing against my warm skin.  
  
Penny was my cheerleading Big Sis, supposedly my mentor in the world of cheering. I sincerely looked up to Penny. She was a tall and well-built girl with gorgeous auburn hair that accented her cream-colored flesh. She was commanding, persuasive, manipulating, and an absolute bitch most of the time. She was dating Jordan, led the Prom Committee, and was a powerful figure in Hillridge High. She was nearly everything that I aspired to be.  
  
The game wouldn't start for a few more hours, but we were already making preparations. When our faces were bedecked with blue and white paw prints and silver glitter, we starting blowing up balloons with a helium tank and lining the fence with blue crepe paper. We spray-painted a huge paper sign for the players to run through that read, "WILDCATS", as well as several smaller ones to hang up around the stadium. The Freshman members of the squad had it the worst. While the other girls took a break, we filled several chests full of ice and sodas and carried them to our sideline area, the visiting cheerleader's area, the concession stand, and even up to the press box. I absolutely despised it, not so much because it was hard work, but because the older cheerleaders and random football players who were beginning to arrive were able to watch us. It was a mark of our lower status. Being a Freshman wasn't easy for me, because I was used to being at the top.  
  
The sky was a mixture of purple, pink, and orange as the sun set during our dinner break. The stadium lights were turned on, and band members were arriving and putting their instruments together. There was about an hour before the game. The squad spread out over our corner of the field and started warming up. I sat down in a straddle position, leaned over, and stretched out my arms against the soft grass. As a performed various stretches, I observed the other cheerleaders. Everyone on the squad was powerfully built, with smooth, muscular legs and soft curves. Their eyes were deep in concentration as they stretched and contorted their beautiful bodies.  
  
I adore cheerleading. It represents so much of what I value. Nearly all of being a good cheerleader is how you present yourself. You have to take care of your body, make sure it's supple and shapely. That's not an option, it's a nessecity. You have to have strength and intensity when you perform, but you also have to be graceful and feminine. Even though alot of people don't realize the skill cheerleading takes, it does involve a great deal of technique and precision. You have to always smile and be energetic, no matter what you feel like inside. We worked our asses off, but we still maintained the ditzy cheerleader persona and made it look easy. That's so much like the way I lived my life. I used strength and expertism to get what I wanted, and hid it behind simple beauty.  
  
Night fell, the band started playing songs, people poured into the stadium, and the air grew heavy with the excitement of the game. Outside the stadium was mostly darkness, but inside the lights were painfully bright and the place buzzed with energy. I was in my element. I was in cheerleader mode, being one of the beautiful people. The feeling of hundreds of eyes on me gave me a rush of pleasure. Everyone felt the flurry and elation that hovered in the atmosphere, and as one of the beautiful girls in blue I was a symbol to them of that great feeling. I knew that I was one of few who could see the poeticism in it.  
  
There was a constant flow of people along the thoroughfare beside the cheerleader's sideline area. I basked in the different glances people would give the cheerleaders. No matter who they were, or who they thought they were, everyone looked at one point or another. It didn't matter what they thought when they saw me, it was the fact that they had had to think at all. They couldn't ignore me, I was unable to go unnoticed. Sometimes I was envied by them, sometimes I was admired. Sometimes they were impressed, sometimes they were disgusted. No matter what, though, they always had to give a thought to me.  
  
I saw Ethan among the crowd several times throughout the game. He was, of course, not on the football team. Ethan had never been a jock. Although being on the team had aided the social status of many of the players, that was not how Ethan achieved his popularity. He was a socialite, like me. People were drawn to him; his personality was infectious. You wouldn't imagine that someone as plainly stupid as Ethan would be "infectious", but to many people his naivity comes off as mystery. He's just so blindly honest, and people can't get enough of that. I suppose that works for some people. It's a direction I could never go, of course. If I were to be honest with who I was, my thoughts would most definitely betray me.  
  
Being on the cheerleading squad meant I had to give up the opportunity to socialize at the game. For the sake of the benefits that came with the title, "cheerleader," I could deal with that. In any case, Ethan's presence at the games was more than enough to earn my social quota for the day. Every time he passed me, he would give me a look or a wave. When the people around him saw these gestures, they would be reminded of who I was. They would take notice of me, yet again, and be reminded of my status.  
  
And I saw Lizzie. She wasn't followed by a swarm of jabbering people like Ethan had been. She just sauntered happily with Miranda and Gordo, smiling and seemingly content with her less than thrilling social life. I admired her loyalty to Gordo and Miranda. Despite how very different they were from one another, they still managed to always take care of each other. With popular people, things didn't work like that. You didn't worry about differences; everyone was exactly the same. And no one took care of each other. Alliances were made, but everyone looked out for themselves alone.  
  
Lizzie, Miranda, and Gordo had once been my friends. I had briefly been a part of that intriguing bond. But of course I moved on, and found a different niche. It was fascinating to think that even though the four of us were in the exact same stadium that night, we were in completely different worlds. 


	6. Five: Encounters with Gourda and Esmerel...

Our team won the game. Everyone who was anyone went to Charlie's Pizza for post-game celebration. This was a part I particularly enjoyed, since I was still decked out in blue, a symbol of the winning team. Inside the pizza place it was noisy, crowded, and filled with the aroma of pepperoni's and Parmesan cheese. I sat at a large table in the corner, surrounding by the excited voices of players and cheerleaders and the most respected of high schoolers. I noticed vaguely other members of the student body, crowded throughout the restaurant, many of them desperate to find a table. I would have hated to be one of those lesser persons. As a sat comfortably at the socialite table, I felt as though I was on a pedestal. I was mildly amused to see Lizzie, Miranda, and Gordo lost in the mix.  
  
"No, really, you guys," Penny Hawkens squealed with delight. Her hands were animated as she flung them around to illustrate her words. "Those back handsprings were, like, AWESOME."  
  
"Totally," I chimed in. "We were so *on* tonight." I made a point to speak loud and clear over the blaring music, not only so Penny could hear me, but also to reach the ears of any jealous fool who was standing nearby.  
  
"Thirty-eight!" bellowed a tired voice from the front counter.  
  
I looked over at Ethan, who was building a tower out of cracker packages. "Ethan," I snapped. "That's our number."  
  
"Huh?" he said distractedly. He was completely in his own world, occupied with that ridiculous cracker tower.  
  
I sighed and spoke very slowly to him. "The pizza, Ethan."  
  
"Oh, uh... right." His cracker creation tipped over and crashed into the table. "Aw, man...."  
  
"For Christ's sake, Ethan," I muttered, getting up from the table. "I'll do it myself."  
  
"Sure thing, babe," he said, even though I was already well on my way to the counter. He started rebuilding.  
  
I walked up to the counter, thought it was abandoned. I let out an annoyed sigh and snapped my fingers. "Hello?" I asked impatiently. It should have been Ethan doing this, but instead the magic of crackers had enchanted him, leaving me to sacrifice valuable socialization time.  
  
A gangly, pimply-faced teenager scurried to the counter bearing a steaming cheese pizza. "Thirty-eight?" he squeaked.  
  
I nodded and took the pizza from him, handing him a wad of cash.  
  
He attempted to smile at me as he handed me my change. "Here you go." Saliva glistened from his braces and I winced. "Have a nice evening."  
  
I wrinkled my nose at him and gave him a condescending eye. "Whatever." As I turned around, I bumped into someone. The fresh, gooey pizza began to slide off the pan and I struggled to regain control of it. "What's your problem?" I snapped, looking up to see who was in my way.  
  
A short, plump Hispanic girl stood before me. She was wearing a faded Slipknot shirt that was a bit to tight, exposing the enormous folds of flesh along her abdomen. Her hair was cut like a boy's, and dark red shadow inexpertly lined her eyes. She growled at me.  
  
"Is there something wrong, Gourda?" said a snake-like voice from behind her. A tall, lanky Hispanic girl slithered up beside Gourda. She was wearing a purple halter-top with sequin teal capris. Hideous gold heart- shaped earrings were visible through her tangled mess of greasy black hair. I knew this girl from my English class. Her name was Esmerelda, and she and I had never been on good terms. Her horrible fashion sense was enough to prevent me from tolerating her, but in addition to that she seemed to take an interest in calling me a "rich white bitch" and threatening to "cut me open like a fish". Of course, she made those types of comments to nearly anyone who would listen.  
  
Esmerelda wrapped her arm possessively around Gourda, cradling her like a pet. "Oh," she said, lacing each of her words with acid. "It's you." She scrunched up her nose at the sight of me, as if I had some horrible odor. I could have easily said the same thing about her.  
  
I'll admit to being a bit scared of Esmerelda, but I still maintained my ever-present conceit and confidence. "I was just telling your... *friend* here to stay out of my way, Esmerelda."  
  
Esmerelda squinted her sharp, serpent eyes at me. "Oh, really? Well, I think you're the one who needs to stay out of the way, punta."  
  
I tried hard to give her my most ferocious glare in return, but she was incredibly intimidating. Esmerelda was edging closer to me, and I suddenly realized my words were having trouble coming out of my throat. I gulped.  
  
"What's going on, ladies?" said a nearby voice. It was Jordan.  
  
Esmerelda gave him a look of hate. "Just talking, ese," she told him, although her tone clearing indicated otherwise.  
  
"Mind if I join you?" He approached us and stood right next to Esmerelda. They were the same height, but Esmerelda looked as if she was made of nothing but wire as she stood next to Jordan's football-player build. Their eyes met, until Jordan broke his gaze and looked in the direction of his table. Esmerelda saw the mass of rowdy football players, and figured out that if she kept threatening me, Jordan could have easily beckoned the aid of a large chunk of the varsity football team.  
  
She glared at Jordan and muttered Spanish obscenties under her breath. Her eyes showed nothing but the utmost loathing for both Jordan and me, but she turned away nonetheless, arm still wrapped tightly around her chubby companion. I tried not to let my deep relief show, but inside I was thanking god I hadn't been murdered right there. It was just another one of the ways my connections came in handy.  
  
"I'll get that for you," said Jordan. He took the pizza from my hands and carried it back to the table for me. When I took my seat, I saw that Ethan had not made much progress at all on his cracker castle. As soon as he saw the pizza, however, he completely lost interest in it and moved his focus onto stuffing his face. I sighed. At least he was a boy, so he could get away with acting like that. I took my time on one dainty slice as I tried to work my way back into the conversations. Jordan took his place beside Penny.  
  
As the night wore on, people began to leave Charlie's and head either home or to after-parties. There were only fifteen or so people in the restaurant when Jordan rested his head on Penny's shoulder and yawned. "You ready to go?" he asked.  
  
Penny had just finished saying goodbye to a group of sophomore cheerleaders. She pulled Jordan's wrist to her and looked at his watch. "Yeah, I guess we'd better be on our way," she said, gathering up her pom bag. "Just let me go to the bathroom first..." She paused, taking a minute to see who was left at the table. "Kate?"  
  
I nodded and immediately stood up, honored to have been called upon. Any girl with class never goes to the bathroom by herself; it breaks all the rules of girl-dom. Being selected by a Senior like Penny to accompany her was one of the highlights of my day. I dutifully followed Penny to the bathroom. Her purse was slung over her shoulder and she walked with a dignified swagger. Even when she was doing something as simple as going to the bathroom, and even when there was hardly anyone there to witness it, she always carried herself with a sense of grace and superiority.  
  
The pimply boy from the counter was mopping the floor, and smiled goofily at me as we passed him. I rolled my eyes and briskly walked past him, making sure to walk right through his freshly mopped floor.  
  
I leaned against the wall in the bathroom as Penny stood in front of the mirror, wiping away smeared eyeliner and fluffing up her hair. When she seemed fairly satisfied with her appearance, she handed me her purse and went into one of the stalls.  
  
"So, Kate," she said, speaking to me over the sounds of her pee. For some reason it struck me as un-ladylike to talk and use the bathroom at the same time. If there had been anyone else around, I knew she never would have done such a thing. I was pleased to know that she trusted me enough to let her guard down around me. "Those Mexican girls didn't hurt you, did they?"  
  
My face reddened. I had hoped that no one had seen it. "Oh... no," I said. "But I think they were going to."  
  
"Little beaner bitches," she muttered as she flushed the toilet. This was something else I hadn't heard Penny do in my presence before: gossip. I knew she talked smack about people, but the fact that she was doing it around me, a lowly Freshman, was something new. She opened the door to the stall and went right back to the mirror. "As soon as I saw them near you I sent Jordan over."  
  
"Oh." I didn't know whether to feel good about this or be disappointed. I had originally thought that Jordan came to my rescue because he was my friend; now I realized he had only come because his girlfriend made him. Of course, the fact remained that his girlfriend was the extremely popular Penny Hawkens. Knowing that she had shown concern for me gave me a sense of importance.  
  
After adjusting her hair for a second time, she turned to face me. She took my chin in her hand and lifted my face, as if to inspect it. "I didn't want them to break your arm or anything," she said, studying my features. "You're, like, one of our best back spots. Very rare for a Freshman." She took a step back from me, getting a full view of me. "I see potential in you, Kate. I could definitely make something out of you."  
  
She took a tube of pink lipstick out of her purse, which I was still holding, and turned back to the mirror. She re-coated her lips and said nothing more. To her, I suppose, it was just another bathroom chitchat. But to me, it was a pivotal moment in my high school career. One my own I was already pretty important on campus. I grinned at the thought of all the power I'd have if I had Penny Hawkens backing me up.  
  
When we walked out of the bathroom, there was no one left besides Jordan, Nic, Claire, and the pimply-faced pizza worker. It was almost 11:45, and I'd told Amy to come at 11:00. The five of us walked outside, and the parking lot was nearly empty. I didn't see Amy's car, which meant she had probably forgotten all about me. Claire, who was spending the night with me, noticed Amy's absence as well as sighed.  
  
"Jordan," I said. He, Penny, and Nic were all heading towards his car. "Could you take Claire and I to my house?"  
  
"Sure," he said, swinging his arm around Penny. "Hop in."  
  
The five of us laughed as we approached Jordan's car, as he and Nic animatedly reenacted the game's more exciting plays. Just as I opened the door to the backseat, I noticed three people standing by the side of the building. Almost all of the lights were out in the parking lot, so it was dark. I was able to identify the obvious shapes of Gourda and Esmerelda, but the third person was covered in shadows. As a car drove down the road behind the pizza place, the headlights briefly illuminated flowing streams of blonde hair.  
  
My breath caught in my throat as I realized it was Lizzie. What the hell was she doing here so late? More importantly, why was she standing in the dark with Gourda and Esmerelda? I was frozen for a moment, snapping back to reality only when Jordan started his car. Everyone else was already inside, but I was still standing there with the door open.  
  
"Uh, you coming, Kate?" asked Jordan.  
  
"Yeah," I replied weakly. I saw Esmerelda's hand give Lizzie a harsh shove. I felt a lump forming in my throat. Any ordinary person who had a basic sense of right and wrong would have immediately run to help, but I wasn't one of those people. I was the kind of person who thought about myself first, and others later. Despite the fact that I was scared for Lizzie, I couldn't force myself to do anything about it. Since middle school I had trained myself to never help Lizzie McGuire. She, of course, had always been willing to save my ass, but I never let myself return the favors. My previous encounter with Gourda and Esmerelda had not left me eager to face them again. They would probably slaughter me on sight. What could I do for her anyway?  
  
I was just starting to slip into the car when I heard a slight moan from Lizzie, followed by a grunt from Gourda and Esmerelda's snake-like snickering.  
  
"Um, I... forgot something," I told my friends in the car. "I'll be right back."  
  
I nervously headed over to the shadows where Lizzie was cornered. I knew that nobody inside Jordan's car would care less about Lizzie McGuire, and none of them would be too thrilled to take on Gourda and Esmerelda just to save her skin. They would have done it anyway, if I had asked them, because no one wants to look like the bad guy. I just didn't want to deal with the resentment they would feel for me if I dragged them into something. They would expect me to look the other way.  
  
But I couldn't look the other way. Not with Lizzie. I couldn't stand to go to sleep that night with visions of Lizzie, beaten bloody by Gourda and Esmerelda. As much as I hardened myself against her, I couldn't seem to turn my back on her when she really needed me.  
  
"What's the matter, blondie?" hissed Esmerelda. She twisted a ringlet of Lizzie's hair around her finger. "Don't you wanna have fun with us?"  
  
Gourda grunted in amusement.  
  
"Hey!" I said as I approached them. I cursed myself for my own stupidity. Did I think I was just going to come over here and rip Lizzie from their clutches? The two of them could have me on the ground in a second, and worse yet, the only intimidation I could come up with was "hey".  
  
Esmerelda growled and reared her head in my direction. "Ugh, you again?"  
  
"Yeah, me." I moved my shoulders back, trying to look as tall as I could. Esmerelda was a good two years older than me, despite being in the same grade, and she was clearly larger than me. "Why don't you back off the twerp?"  
  
Esmerelda grinned. "Oh? And what are you gonna do if we don't?"  
  
"I... uh..."  
  
"Lizzie!" cried out a woman's voice. I turned around and saw Mrs. McGuire pulling up; her car was clanking along and looked as though it was going to fall to pieces at any moment. "Oh, Lizzie, I'm so sorry, honey! I had car trouble! I tried to call your dad but my cell phone was dead... Oh, I'm just so sorry. I feel awful. Is everything okay?"  
  
Esmerelda and Gourda immediately backed away from Lizzie and started walking away. Lizzie was trembling, and she looked over at me. Our eyes met briefly, but I looked away. "Everything's fine, Mrs. McGuire," I said in my sweetest voice.  
  
Mrs. McGuire smiled at me a let out a sigh of relief. "I'm glad." She gave an apologetic look at Lizzie. "Hop on in, sweetie. I'm so sorry."  
  
"That's okay, Mom," said Lizzie. She looked over at me and smiled, and then got into the car with her mom. Mrs. McGuire looked over at me. "Do you need me to take you home, Kate?"  
  
I shook my head. "No thank you, Mrs. McGuire."  
  
She looked at me skeptically. "Well... okay. If you say so." She pulled out of the parking lot, her car clanking all the way.  
  
I was amused by how much Lizzie's mother seemed to care about her. She had felt so terrible about being late. She didn't want her little Lizzie to be left alone any longer than she had to. And then, to extend her motherliness even further, she wanted to make sure that I was okay as well. She was mentally punishing herself for being forty-five minutes late, probably calling herself a horrible mother. She had no idea. My mother was hundreds of miles away, probably drunk at some fancy party. I was sure she could care less about the fact that the cousin to whom she trusted my care had completely abandoned me. Mrs. McGuire had no idea what it really meant to be a horrible mother.  
  
"What was that all about?" asked Penny as I slid into the car and we pulled out of the parking lot.  
  
"That... oh, I uh..." I began. "I just realized I left Ethan's change from the pizza on the table. But it was gone." There we go. That was the lying, confident Kate I knew.  
  
"Oh." Penny looked out the window and saw Mrs. McGuire's run-down car a few feet a head of us. "And what about them? Who were they? Did I see those two Mexican girls over there, too?"  
  
"No. It was just Lizzie McGuire." Penny's face was blank; she obviously had no idea who Lizzie was. "She's just a stupid Freshman. Total loser."  
  
"Right." She seemed satisfied with my response, and I was glad she wasn't asking any more questions. She giggled to herself. "I'll bet it was that McGuire girl who took the change. Poor skank probably needs it. Would you look at that car?"  
  
I laughed with her. "Oh, yeah. Totally."  
  
Author's Note: If you've seen the episode where Gordo's brain project blows up in class, you'll get where I got the inspiration for Gourda's character; from when he says, "Actually, I'm Gordo. Gourda's the big girl from ESL." Anyway... just a little inside reference, for the fun of it. 


	7. Six: The Best Friend and the Boyfriend

I took a long shower at home. I let the warm water stream through my mass of hair and over my tired body. I had to wash the sweat from the game off of me. I had to wash the entire week off of me. I listened to nothing but the sound of water pouding against ceramic, and tried to wash away my thoughts as well.  
  
The mirror was coated in steam when I stepped out of the shower. I leaned against the counter, naked, and wiped it away with my hand. I pondered for a moment the amount of time I spent looking in a mirror each day. I spent an hour alone in front of my mirror each morning, and of course I checked myself everytime I walked into a bathroom. I also had my compact, the miniature mirror I kept with me at all times. I was very familiar with the countours and features of my face. Now, as I stood before my bathroom mirror, I saw myself without anything to hide me. No make-up, no hair products, no clothes even. Just water and skin.  
  
I smelled like vanilla soap and pearberry shampoo. Besides being beautiful, girls should also smell nice. That's one of the things that makes us so enchanting and feminine. I wouldn't dare go anywhere without a squirt of scented spray. It's one of my more useful tools. I love the look on boys' faces when I come near them. They seem absolutely amazed that a girl can possess such a tasty smell. It's some great mystery to them. Clearly, boys don't know much about smelling nice.  
  
I put on pink cotton pants and a black tank top. I towel-dried my hair, feeling to lazy to blow-dry it. When I went back into my bedroom, Claire was sprawled out on my bed in her pajamas, flipping through Seventeen. I flopped down beside her and laid in the comfort of my pillows and blankets.  
  
"You look tired," Claire commented. She licked the tip of her finger and turned the page.  
  
I turned on my side and nestled my face into a rose-print pillow. "I feel tired."  
  
Claire set down the magazine and laid down beside me. "So," she said, tryring to give the conversation a more upbeat vibe. "How did it feel to go to the bathroom with Penny?"  
  
As I thought about it, I realized how silly that question sounded. If someone else had been listening to us talk and had heard that question, they probably would have thought we were retarded. But the two of us understood what it meant when a girl asked another girl to go to the bathroom. It was a mark of friendship and trust. The fact that Penny had shown that kind of friendship to me was a fairly big deal. Other people wouldn't have paid any attention to it all, but Claire had read the signs verbatim. That's why she was my best friend; we were on exactly the same brain frequency.  
  
I turned onto my other side, so I could see Claire. I grinned at her. "It was totally awesome," I said. I couldn't tell her the exact conversation. Even though she was my best friend, Claire would be immensely jealous to know that Penny had as good as taken me as her apprentice. I wasn't about to dish the details, but I could give her the general idea of it. "She talked to me just like I was on her level or something. Things are totally going to start looking up for me."  
  
Claire pouted a bit. "You're so lucky."  
  
"Oh, don't pout. If things get good for me, they get good for you. You're my partner-in-crime. That's how it works."  
  
She brightened a bit. "Ah, yes. Too true."  
  
Ever since late in the seventh grade, Claire had always been a sort of pet to me. I was the mastermind, and Claire was my cronie. She followed my commands and made my plans into realities. In turn, I took care of her. It had once been the other way around. Claire had been the leader, and I had been her follower. We both competed to be cheerleading captain. I dislocated my shoulder, and she took full advantage of the opportunity to kick me off the team. Who else came to my rescue but Lizzie McGuire? She helped me to work around my injury, making me still an eligible cheerleader. Ironically enough, Claire injured her arm as well. She didn't have any Lizzie to help her out, so I became captain. I could have tossed her aside just as she had done to me, but I didn't. It falls under another one of my rules: Never owe anyone anything. I accepted Claire, even though she'd lost her position as head cheerleader, and we remained friends. But things were different now. She was in my debt. It had been proven that I was the stronger of the two of us, and it has been that way ever since.  
  
It's sad, I suppose, that our friendship grew out of some childish fuss, but that's life. You take it as it comes to you.  
  
I yawned and realized I was exhausted. I pulled down the blankets and got underneath them, feeling snug and content.  
  
"Kate," whined Claire. "You're not going to bed already, are you? Let's do something fun."  
  
"This is fun," I told her. "Sleep is extremely fun."  
  
She starting slapping my shoulder softly. "Come on, Kate. Don't go to bed yet."  
  
I sighed impatiently. "You can stay up if you want to. Go hang out with Amy."  
  
Claire snorted. "No thanks."  
  
"Well, then quit bitching and let me go to sleep."  
  
"Whatever." Claire admitted defeat, and got under the covers on the opposite side of the bed.  
  
* * * *  
  
The first thing I heard when I woke up the next morning was the sound of a boy's voice screaming, "Dog pile!" Claire and I immediately started shrieking when an unidentified male bellyflopped on top of us. He flung his arms madly in the air and made screeching noises like Godzilla.  
  
"Ethan?" I asked sleepily as I struggled to gain composure.  
  
He laughed madly, as if it were the most hysterical thing ever, and snuggled up beside me underneath the covers. He gave me a peck on the cheek and said, "Wake up, sleepy head. It's two in the afternoon."  
  
"You are vile," hissed Claire. She angrily flopped on her other side, leaving her back towards Ethan and I.  
  
Ethan looked as if he wanted to say something back to her, but he couldn't form words. I'm not sure he knew what "vile" actually meant, so he didn't really how to react. Instead he turned his attention to me. "Hey, baby. Wazzup?"  
  
"What's up is you just woke me from a peaceful sleep," I told him. I meant for it to be a cold remark, but it came out soft. I was too tired to pull off the frigid ice queen routine.  
  
"Aw, G, you can't be sleeping in this late. There's, like, a whole world out there to experience."  
  
"Thanks for the sentiment, Buddah." I rolled onto my back and looked up at Ethan. Chin-length sandy brown hair fell into his face as he hovered over me like a puppy desperate for attention. Ethan was exactly the type of boyfriend someone like me required. He was popular, sexy to boot, and of course, he had nothing but unconditional affection for me. Fragile creatures such as myself need men who are always ready to fall at our feet. He was far from being bright, but I didn't see that as a downside. On the contrary, it made it all the easier to control him when nessecary. We had a sweet little arrangement going on, from which we both benefitted.  
  
As I stared up at Ethan's face and examined his eyes and gentle mouth, I felt mild satisfaction in knowing that he was mine. It was a sensation I hadn't felt much lately. We had been together for months, and the novelty of having Ethan Craft as a boyfriend had long since worn away. Throughout middle school I had been such an avid seeker of Ethan's attention. I stopped at nothing until I had him. Did I ever really like him? I wondered to myself. I couldn't help but admit to myself that my desire for Ethan was more social than romantic. I wanted him because he was the "it" boy; I persued him because he was the one nobody else seemed able to catch. I was always showing off like that.  
  
I wouldn't trade Ethan for the world. He was my best accessory. He gave my image the exact flare that it needed without suffocating it. He could be a bother at times, but he wasn't hard to tend to for the most part. He was like a pet. That was the perfect way to describe my affections for Ethan. You love your pets, but at the same time, you don't LOVE them. As much as I enjoyed having Ethan around, I still couldn't honestly say that I had feelings for him. The more I thought about it, I couldn't think of a single person I truly had feelings for. I didn't have time to take that sort of interest in anyone. I could see through them, I could use them, I could be admired by them, but I couldn't bring myself to love anyone like that. To lose myself in those kind of emotions would only cause disaster in the end.  
  
Ethan startled me with a kiss. My thoughts were tucked away for later as I kissed him back and pretended to be delighted. In truth, Ethan's kisses were another one of many things that had lost meaning to me. Claire, who had been huffing distinctly on the other half of the bed, seemed unable to contain herself once Ethan and I started kissing. She rolled out of bed and marched with annoyance out of the bedroom, casting a discreet, jealous glare at Ethan and me.  
  
How awful it is when one gets such great satisfaction from making their best friend green with envy. 


	8. Seven: Research

Tuesday came and went. My parents didn't come home. I was hardly surprised. I wouldn't be surprised if they came home months later, and saw me sitting on the couch, and one of them said, "Oh, look, dear. We have a daughter! How about that?" I knew all too well that my existence didn't fit in very well with their aristocratic, entrepreneurship lifestyle.  
  
My mother and father had a relationship similar to my own with Ethan. I was uncertain of how much "love" actually existed between them, but they had a mutually beneficial arrangement. My father gets the privilege of a companion who is stunningly beautiful and also follows his every whim. My mother gets a share of Daddy's enormous wallet. It all works out quite well. She's supposedly his Chief Assistant of Financial Management or some crap like that. I don't know her exact title; it's some made-up position she secured herself and uses as an excuse to follow Dad on all of his business travels.  
  
It was Thursday. I put Britney Spears in my stereo, cranked up the volume, and sat down at my computer. The group project in Mythology required that I dress up as one of the Greek gods or goddesses and give a brief biography of them. Naturally, I had chosen Aphrodite, the goddess of love, desire, and beauty. It was simply fitting. I had put off doing my share of the research for a week, but I knew if I was going to get an A and be as perfect as I always was, I would have to force myself to sit down and do it. I curled up Indian-style in my chair as I listened to hard core dance beats and Britney's seductive voice singing, "I'm a slave for you...", and skimmed through websites on Greek mythology.  
  
On the screen, there was a picture of a woman with milky white skin. She had blonde hair that flowed and stretched out as if she was in water; her lips were bright red and her eyes were deeply dark. At least I knew I could look the part. I read the text on the page, "In addition to her natural gifts, she has a magical girdle that compels anyone she wishes to desire her." I laughed out loud. I've got one of those, too, I thought to myself. It's called a wonder bra. I read on, "Aphrodite was cruel with her punishment, and she punished all who would go against her." Ah, that was my kind of woman: let no one stand in your way. One of my very own mottos. I became intrigued as I read all the ways she got her revenge. She turned the daughter of Cinyras to prostitution, and made the Lemnian women smell foul so that their husbands would leave them. "She represented sex, affection, and the attraction that binds people together," the screen read. A very powerful goddess indeed.  
  
Apparently, there were two different theories to the birth of Aphrodite. The less popular belief was that she was the daughter of Zeus and Dione. The other legend claimed that she was born of sea foam, when the severed genitals of Uranus were thrown into the sea. She had no true parents, and was carried by the winds to the shores of Cyprus. It was there that she was bestowed jewels and allowed to ascend Olympus as a goddess. Damn, I thought as I read it. That was a bizarre tale if I ever heard one. I felt, however, that I could relate. My parents basically dropped me in the sea, leaving only winds to carry me and keep me from drowning. It was by my own damn strength that I survived and made it to the shore. I made it across the sea, and as far as much of the world was concerned, I was made a goddess for my troubles.  
  
I grew tired of gods and legends after awhile and went downstairs. Amy was on the couch with a controller in her hand, making swift and erratic movements as though she were actually inside in the video game. I rolled my eyes and continued towards the kitchen. Inside the refrigerator was a lid- less jar of peanut butter, a watermelon, two cans of beer, a half-eaten ham sandwich, and a piece of cheese. Terrific. I searched through the cupboards and the pantry, but didn't find anything to my liking.  
  
"Amy!" I called. "Why isn't there any food? What did you do with the grocery money?"  
  
There was no response.  
  
"AMY!"  
  
"Busy!" she shot back. "I'll be there once I get the life shield, mmmkay?"  
  
"Never mind," I mumbled. I picked up the phone and ordered a pizza. I didn't even want to imagine what Amy had possibly done with the grocery money. It was just like her to blow it on something else. The situation was worsened, of course, by the fact that Amy's freeloading friends had a tendency to eat what food we did have.  
  
I came out of the kitchen and sat beside Amy as I waited for the pizza. Her slightly bloodshot eyes were alive with intensity as she focused on making her video game character slaughter a woman in blue robes.  
  
"Who are you killing?" I asked vaguely, as if it mattered.  
  
"Larka," Amy replied with pride. "She's been abusing my guardian angel Neneth. Yeah! Take that, angel-molester!"  
  
I pursed my lips. "Well. That's lovely."  
  
The front door swung open. "We're back!" chirped an annoyingly haughty but familiar voice.  
  
"Hey, guys," said Amy, not looking away from her game.  
  
I wished that I could ignore my parents' entrance the same way she did, but unfortunately, I actually was eager to see them. It's awful how things work that way. Even though they ruin your life, you still miss them when they leave because they spawned you. I looked towards the entryway. My mother, in all of her glimmering glory, pranced into the room as if it were a yacht party. You'll never see her make an entrance that isn't grand. Her gold hair was pulled back at the top, but the lower half was left hanging by her neck in perfectly even curls. Her eyes were shaded intensely with hunter green shadow. Her face was shielded by thick foundation, her lips were bright red. She had on black dress pants, heels, and a knitted red sweater that was far too low-cut for a woman her age. Only my mother would wear a sweater in 75 degree September weather, making the excuse that it looked classy. Admittedly, it was classy, and she made it look good. She was the spitting image of the Aphrodite illustration I had seen.  
  
It bothered me intensely. I hated the fact that she was so striking, that heads turned whenever she entered a room. Nobody knew, when they admired her, what a horrible woman she was. They didn't know that she never taught me right from wrong, only lipliner from eyeliner. They didn't know that she would get plastered and tell me everything I did wrong. They didn't know that she had failed to show me what it meant to be loved. All they saw was a gorgeous woman, a muse, a goddess. As they watched her graceful movements and infectious charm, they had no idea that far away she had a daughter who was crying for her.  
  
She came into the living room, paused, and struck a pose. My father walked in behind her, carrying the bags. "So," she said in a chipper voice. She beamed at Amy and me. "Who missed me?"  
  
"Oh, I did, Aunt Ada," Amy responded monotonously. She was still in her zone. "Loads."  
  
My mother looked over at me radiantly. Did she even realize that she had been gone a week longer than she originally said she would? Did she even care that at this very moment, there was barely any food to provide for her daughter? As I looked into her face and saw her carefree smile and lively eyes, I knew that she did not. She had always been oblivious to the fact that I, too, had needs, and that many of them were her responsibility to fulfill. She only knew of her world.  
  
But I could not turn down her beautiful, smiling face. She looked so happy. Deep down, I knew she was only in such a pleasant mood because there had likely been booze on the flight. I knew that she was wrapped up in herself, that she was as phony as ever. I ignored my reasonable side, however, and gave in to my weaker emotions. I wanted her to be happy to see ME. I fooled myself into believing that the smile on her face was there because she had been away from me for so long, and now she was with me again. I wanted to believe that the radiant woman in the doorway was my mother who loved me and wanted to take care of me.  
  
I got off the couch and walked over to her, letting her open arms give me a big hug. "I missed you, too, Mom."  
  
Author's Note: The Aphrodite information used was taken from http://acheron.servehttp.com:8080/checkram/mythology/aphrodite.htm and www.greekmythology.com. If you happen to check out greekmythology.com, the lower illustration actually does look alot like Kate. 


	9. Eight: Private Conversations

High school is much more complicated than middle school. The social structure is more winding and diverse; it takes a true master to understand all of its twists and turns. Middle school is rather simple: there are jocks, second tier populars, geeks, and normals. And then of course the elite few who control it all. High school, however, does not abide by such simple rules. You have many separate groups of elite, who all control their various sects. There is inter-competition between these groups, but alliances also exist. Then there is a second and third tier of popularity. There are good jocks and bad jocks; there are good geeks and bad geeks. There are some cliques that rise and fall in popularity, sometimes being in command while other times being at the bottom of the ladder. Few people realize that high school is an intricate society all its own.  
  
Claire was intimidated by this social structure. She, like me, was used to being the top dog bad-ass. However, rather than cower before the system, I was pleased to take on the challenge. I executed a brilliant plan. Step one: get on the cheerleading squad. That one was a no-brainer. Step two: join yearbook. In middle school, I entrusted that role to Claire. By the time we reached high school, I realized I was going to have to step forward myself if I wanted to make the right connections. Step three: befriend upperclassmen without alienating my own peers. I stayed true to my fellow Freshman, but I also did not hesitate to make it "in" with strategic upperclassmen. Step four would have been snag the perfect boyfriend, but as I had already acquired Ethan in middle school, that was unnecessary.  
  
Surprisingly, yearbook was not as simple a class as I thought it would be. I assumed it would be nothing more than a means of earning respect from my peers, and of course securing plenty of my pictures in the yearbook. Turns out, there was actually some skill and effort involved in it all. Claire and I sat alone at our own table, sifting through the class photos ("mug shots", as we called them) and trying to alphabetize them. It was dull and grueling, the kind of task always assigned to Freshman staff members. Penny, who was of course the editor, approached us.  
  
"Kate," she said, giving an involuntary flip of her burnt-red hair. "I need a word with you." There was a pause, and she glanced impatiently at Claire. "Alone."  
  
Claire was clearly suppressing the urge to argue. Penny gave her a simple look, and Claire was reminded of her place. She left the table without a word or so much as a glance at either of us.  
  
"I have a project for you," she told me airily.  
  
This was news indeed. I tactfully hid my sheer enthusiasm. "Okay," I replied neutrally.  
  
"We're experimenting with a new section for the yearbook. We want to focus on what unites the student body. We want to include collages, quotes, student art and poetry-- the whole bit. Something that will reach everyone. We're thinking of calling it 'The Spirit of Hillridge'."  
  
Who was she kidding? I thought. The student body of Hillridge was anything but united. The "spirit of Hillridge" was nothing more than competition. Everyone wanted everything they couldn't have. I knew that Penny knew this better than anyone. She was quite familiar with the true spirit of Hillridge High School, as she had fought her way to the top. She wasn't interested in reaching anyone but herself.  
  
"That sounds nice," I said, lacing my words with false innocence. "But is anyone going to but it? It sounds sort of like propaganda to me."  
  
She grinned. "That's why I like you, Kate. You understand the way it is. Of course it's bullshit, but administrators eat this stuff up. The yearbook isn't meant to be a reflection of the way things really are, my dear, but a reflection of the way we'd like to see them."  
  
I nodded. "So what do you need me to do?"  
  
"Your job is to run the polls." She flipped through her stack of paper and handed me a sheet. "Monday, I want you to go around and take down people's responses at lunch."  
  
"Sure." My enthusiasm was false; I had hoped for something much more important than going around with a poll.  
  
She picked up quickly on my displeasure and snapped at me. "Hey, you should be thankful. This is a much bigger task than most Freshman could ever be trusted with."  
  
"Of course." I smiled my patented Kate-Sanders-smile, and she seemed to buy it well enough. She walked away.  
  
Claire returned when Penny was a safe distance from me. "Well?" she asked as she resumed her seat.  
  
I handed Claire the poll. "You can help me with this on Monday." I certainly wasn't going to meander the courtyard all by myself.  
  
"Oh. So that what was so important?"  
  
I resented the comment. It's true, it wasn't anything big at all, but I didn't appreciate Claire's tone. For some reason I had this need to always keep Claire thinking that I had more than she did. It was my way of keeping her subdued.  
  
"Of course not," I lied. "But I obviously can't tell you what else we talked about. Why would she talk to me alone if it was something I could just share with anybody?"  
  
Claire rolled her eyes and said nothing. I had won. However, it was a bittersweet victory. The competitive, greedy nature in me was pleased. But the softer side of me was pained by Claire's silence. I felt bad for her. As the weeks in high school progressed, Claire's sociability was becoming less and less prominent. She was getting lost in the mix. She was quickly becoming hidden by my shadow; as I grew stronger, she grew weaker. She knew as well as I did that I could easily lose her like a bad habit. I was doing so well in high school that I no longer needed Claire. But I clung to her, because despite everything, she was my friend. Once before, I had been so determined to be a social goddess that I lost my three best friends forever. I didn't want to make that mistake twice.  
  
* * * *  
  
Nic hit on me again in science class. What an absolute buffoon. What amused me the most, of course, was his unfazed confidence. He seemed to think that he was infinitely smooth, that I was dense enough to buy into it all. It's the curse of playing the dumb-blonde. His efforts of "wooing" me were particularly strong on Fridays. It had to be the cheerleading outfit. People can't resist hitting on a cheerleader.  
  
What's more, his confidence in his smoothness seemed to also make him think no one else could see through him, either. I, however, was ever on the alert. I was well aware of the watchful eyes of Miranda Sanchez. She seemed to be taking in the whole situation in awe. She must wonder how I do it, I thought to myself. How I attract them all to me without even trying. I allowed him to keep babbling for no other reason than to enjoy the disgustingly envious look on Miranda's face.  
  
Science was quickly becoming my least favorite class for several reasons. Larry Tudgemen, my lab partner, had lately developed a crush on Rachel Farse. He spent most of his time gawking at her, which made it extremely difficult to coax him into doing all the work. I ended up giving up all together. It was easier to just do the damn work myself than waste time sweet-talking Tudgemen. The down side of working alone, however, was that Nic took it as an opportunity to pester me even more. Meanwhile, Gourda and Esmerelda were constantly giving me cold scowls and hissing racial insults at me whenever the teacher wasn't looking. So as a means of comforting myself throughout this god-awful period, I took to coming up with ways to piss off Miranda. It wasn't quite as much fun as it was in middle school, because she didn't fight back as much as she used to, but it was better than nothing.  
  
The bell rang, and I wasted no time to gather up my things and haul ass out of there. I moved as quickly as possible out the door and into the nearest group of friends I could spot; Gourda and Esmerelda were hot on my tail. If I was ever alone, I knew they wouldn't hesitate to jump me. Luckily, there was almost always someone somewhere that I could hang out with (yet another perfect example of why connections are the secret of my success.)  
  
When the two lesbian thugs had gone on their way, I went to Claire's locker. We always met up there and walked to Mythology together. I was utterly shocked to find that not only was Claire not at her locker, she was nowhere to be seen. This ripple in the normal flow of a school day frustrated me. The predictability of my schedule was a necessity to the way I organized things. I didn't want to be seen waiting around in the hall all alone, so I quickly proceeded to Mythology without her.  
  
I was startled yet again when I arrived. Claire was already in the classroom, hovering over Miranda's desk. The two of them were engaged in excited conversation. Miranda watched with intense fascination as Claire spoke. They spoke in low murmurs, as though they wanted no one else to hear them. But the thing that truly made my jaw drop was one, simple detail: they were both smiling.  
  
What the hell? I thought to myself. Since when do Miranda and Claire speak on civil terms? I couldn't help but feel both angry and insecure. I knew everything that Claire did. There were no secrets to her. But as I watched her, I got the horrible sensation that she was keeping something from me.  
  
"Claire?" I said firmly as I approached.  
  
Their conversation was abruptly silenced, the smiles wiped from their faces. That was another bad sign. Claire moved to her desk, and the two of them acted as though they hadn't been talking at all.  
  
I eyed her coldly as I took my seat beside her.  
  
"What?" she asked, unable to shake off my gaze.  
  
"Don't try playing the 'what?' card, Claire," I said. I had to use all my strength to mask the angry I felt. "As I recall, Miranda Sanchez is on the list of people we don't associate ourselves with. What were you two talking about?"  
  
For the first time in many weeks, Claire matched my gaze with a defiant glare. "I'm entitled to my own little private conversations, too, aren't I?"  
  
She was talking about Penny, I realized. "That is different!"  
  
Her face remained confident. "Is it?" There was a frustrating finality to her tone. We didn't talk much for the rest of the class period. I found myself consistently glancing at Miranda and Claire, wondering what they were up to. As we left the class, I was angered even more when I saw Claire slip her a note.  
  
I was beginning to rethink my whole plan of keeping Claire around. 


	10. Nine: Just Another Party

I stumbled out of bed on Saturday some time around four in the afternoon. I never felt guilty about being as leisurely as I wanted to when it came to waking up on Saturdays. I woke up so damned early every other day of the week. I adored my one day of sleeping in. If you asked me, Saturday mornings and afternoons existed for the sole reason of being wasted away.  
  
I walked downstairs, sleepy-eyed, wearing blue cheerleading shorts and a white tank top. I moved to cross the living room and enter the kitchen, and I saw my mother relaxed on the couch. I half-expected to see a glass of liquor in her hand; I wouldn't put it past my mother to be smashed at four o'clock in the afternoon. To my surprise, she was sober.  
  
She looked over at me and smiled a sad smile. "Hello, baby," she said. "Did you just wake up?"  
  
"Yeah," I said. I curled up on the opposite end of the couch.  
  
My mother let out an overly heavy sigh. She folded her hands on her lap and looked around the room, shaking her head. "You want to catch a movie tonight?"  
  
I looked at my mother. Why on earth would she ask me that? My mother and I never did things together. I found myself looking for the catch. "Why?"  
  
She sighed again. "I don't know. I just thought it would be nice to get out of the house for awhile." She glanced around again, wrinkling her nose at her surroundings. "I feel like I can't breathe in this old house. I hate being cooped up in here."  
  
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mom. But I already have plans. I'm going to a party with Ethan."  
  
She said nothing. She seemed to ignore my comment, and continued sighing wistfully. We sat in silence; she seemed like she wasn't even aware of my presence. Her eyes had a lost look to them. It upset me. She had only been home for two days, and already she was tired of being here. I knew that look so well. She was like a caged bird, itching to fly. Blonde wisps of hair fell across her forlorn face. Her eyes mourned at the walls around her, as if our house was a prison.  
  
Why were her eyes so sad? Was it really so bad to just be here, at home, with me? I couldn't help but think there was something I had done to make her so unhappy. The logical side of me made it quite clear that it wasn't my fault, that my mother was just a cold-hearted lunatic. The emotions in the back of my mind drew difficult conclusions, however. I was unable to prevent myself from wondering, What have I done?  
  
My poor mother. Her dainty figure lay limp against the expensive couch. Her eyes flickered with pain. She turned to me with a makeshift smile. "Please, button? You wouldn't want to leave me here all by lonesome, would you?"  
  
It was such a tempting offer. My mother, who rarely acknowledged my presence and flinched at the sight of me, wanted to spend an entire evening with me. Just me and her. My mother needed me, and feeling needed by her was the greatest feeling ever. My cynical side stepped forward. It wasn't me she needed; she would have been happy with anyone so long as she could get out of the house. She had called me button. Did she think I was still nine years old? She hadn't even noticed that I'd grown up, that I wasn't her little button any more. And, wait... had she said she didn't want ME to leave HER all alone?  
  
No, I decided, I wouldn't be going out with my mom that night. I had a social life to attend to. I didn't have time to waste on something that wouldn't earn me anything in the end.  
  
I showered and groomed myself. I molded my hair into flowing, perfect curls and painted my face with the usual weekend make-up. I slid into a denim fringed skirt and knee-high boots. The top I had chosen was pastel pink. Pink, my signature color. It wrapped around my neck and flowed down my middle. It left a bare patch of skin visible on my back. It was customary at weekend gatherings such as parties for everyone to go to the extremes in revealing clothing. Weekends were the only opportunity people had to show off their goods, due to the restrictive dress code of school. A majority of people got caught up in the freedom of clothes and ended up dressing obscenely whorish. I, however, knew the art of moderation. I would let only a shred of flesh show; enough to catch eyes and evoke thoughts, but not enough to prevent anyone from using their imagination.  
  
Half an hour before the party, I received a telephone call.  
  
"Hello?" I said.  
  
"Hello, Kate," replied Penny on the other line.  
  
"Oh, hi, Penny." It was huge; the first time Penny had called me.  
  
"I heard you were going to Kayla's party tonight. Why don't you let Jordan and I give you a ride? That boyfriend of yours is already over here, hanging out with Jordan's little brother."  
  
I grew excited. It never hurt to show up at a party with the most popular girl in school. "Sure. I'm all over it." I paused, realization hitting me. "Oh, my friend was supposed to ride with me. Do you think we could pick up Claire?"  
  
"Sure, whatever." Penny seemed preoccupied. "We'll be there in twenty." She hastily hung up. She was all business, even when it came to socialization. But I suppose for her, socialization and business were one and the same.  
  
Twenty minutes later, I went downstairs and found that my mother was still moping around. I felt equally guilty and disgusted. It's very hard to hate your mother and feel sorry for her at the same time. A car honked outside and my troubles were soon forgotten. I mumbled a quick, "Love you, Mom," and headed outside. I saw Jordan's car in the driveway. Penny, Nic, and Ethan were also in the car.  
  
Penny was a vision. Her fire-like locks had been pulled into a loose, wild ponytail. Curly auburn strands flew in every direction. Her eyes were lined and accented with a blend of blue, white, and sea foam green shimmer. I made a mental note to remember to try that eye make-up trick some time. Her built contours were placed snugly in glittery jeans and a bright purple top. She seemed to glow. She was an interesting sight next to Jordan, whose untamed brown hair and baggy clothes made him look no different from his usual appearance.  
  
"Katums," squealed Penny as I slid into the back seat. I didn't show my surprise at being called by a nickname. It was one of those subtle details that let me know I was moving up the ranks on her "list". The name was revolting, of course, but I'd rather have it than no nickname at all. "That top is totally boss. So few people can pull off pink like that."  
  
A compliment on my party attire and a nickname. Two milestones in one breath. The evening was off to good start. Ethan swung his arm around me as Jordan started to drive off. He engaged Jordan on a conversation about football; every time his eyes wandered from me, Nic would steal a glance at me. It was endlessly annoying.  
  
We pulled up to Claire's house. Jordan honked the horn and Claire came strolling out. She looked completely different. Penny's jaw dropped ever so slightly. Claire's already-curly hair had been crimped and frizzed out. Black leather pants gleamed in the headlights of the car. She wore a lacey black shirt with strips of black fabric hanging from random edges; it was purposefully sheer, and her black bra was visible through it. Her eyes were coated with heavy black and smoky gray shadow. Her lips were deep red. Various pieces of silver jewelry dangled from her wrists and around her neck. She was elegantly dark and necromantic.  
  
"Hey, it's the lady from bewitched!" said Ethan playfully as Claire slipped into the car. "Can you wiggle your nose, like that lady?" Claire simply gave him a look, and he shrugged off his own question. Instead, he went slightly cross-eyed as he seemed to focus intently on making his nose wiggle by will alone.  
  
The vibrations of a heavy bass line could already be felt as we approached the house of the party. I turned to Ethan. "Whose party is this again?" I asked.  
  
His brow furled and he scratched his head. "I don't remember."  
  
"Kayla McKinley," Penny answered promptly. "Junior, cheerleader, Beta club treasurer. Dating Bill Green." I nodded. Penny never missed a beat.  
  
Ethan gently grabbed my arm, weaved his fingers through mine, and led me into the house. Claire sulkily walked behind us. The music was blaring. A group of boys dressed very much like Jordan were jumping around and head banging right next to the stereo speakers, in the small den to the left of the entryway. One of them beckoned Jordan to them; Jordan grinned and ran into their small mosh pit. Penny sighed impatiently and went after him. Nic and Claire seemed to be watching Ethan and me, waiting for us to take the lead.  
  
Ethan swung a right into what was apparently the living room. The music wasn't quite as loud in here, but still enough to make you raise your voice when you wanted to speak to someone. Various circles of people were standing around with drinks in their hands, chatting, laughing, and swaying to the hard core music. A few guys were on the couch, hollering at a football game on the television. Through a door on the opposite end of the room I saw more people still, picking through the food on the kitchen table. I didn't see a single Freshman; it was mostly older students.  
  
A giddy brunette with purple streaks and wild pigtails bounced over to us. She wore denim capris and a black wife-beater. I knew her from the cheerleading squad: Kayla, the girl throwing the party. "Hey, it's the grape soda guy!" she said excitedly, her eyes directed at Ethan.  
  
"Yeah, man," Ethan replied. "Grape rules!"  
  
Kayla guffawed stupidly. She seemed to have an energetic naïveté about her; she was like the female version of Ethan. Her eyes shifted to me. "And it's the girl. The girl I know from cheerleading..."  
  
"Kate," I supplied.  
  
She nodded. "Right, right. And you also brought... Other people! Hi, other people!"  
  
Nic and Claire nodded vaguely.  
  
Kayla's short attention span immediately shifted. "Hey, it's the shoe girl!" she cried, looking past us. "Hi, shoe girl! Hi, other person with the shoe girl!"  
  
The four of us turned to see whom she was greeting. Claire and I exchanged looks of utter shock as we recognized the new comers to be Lizzie and Miranda. Suddenly, I vaguely remembered Lizzie talking in Mythology one day about an older student admiring her shoes. I deduced that Kayla, like Ethan, befriended any random person who could provide her with amusement.  
  
"Hi, Kayla," Lizzie responded shyly. She and Miranda looked excitedly about the room, taking in the scene. Their eyes were wide with wonder and eagerness. This probably made their week. To me it was just another party, but to them it was "the" party. I could almost visualize them, sitting in Lizzie's bedroom before the party, squealing with delight and imagining this to be a life-changing event. I found the whole scenario laughable. I immediately made plans, of course, to rip the smiles off their faces.  
  
Kayla quickly moved to something else. "Josh Briggs, shame on you!" she jokingly squealed, her attention on a person standing in the entryway. "I thought I said no booze." She ran over to greet Josh, and it seemed as though she didn't mind the booze at all, despite what she said.  
  
A grin spread across Nic's face simultaneously with the look of horror on Lizzie's face. "Anyone need me to grab them one?" Nic asked, apparently planning on greeting Josh as well.  
  
"No thanks, bro," said Ethan. "You know I hate that stuff." Lizzie beamed in admiration at Ethan's choice. I slipped my arms around Ethan, reminding Lizzie of her place, and shook my head no in response to Nic.  
  
"Get me one," said Claire. Nic waited for half a second longer, making sure no one else would take up his offer, then left us.  
  
My eyes fell condescendingly on Lizzie. I was thankful for my incredible height, because it allowed me to look down on her both literally and figuratively. "How cute," I purred viciously. "Sanchez and McGuire get their fifteen minutes. Enjoy it while it lasts, losers." I shoved my hand in Miranda's face as she opened her mouth to speak, and shoved her aside. I intentionally walked over to a group of popular seniors, Ethan wrapped around me and Claire trailing behind.  
  
"Jimbo!" I greeted.  
  
A large football player with a buzz cut turned to me. His father worked for my father, and I had known him since elementary school. "What's up, Sanders," he said to me. The other Seniors, all of whom I knew by reputation but had never personally spoken to, eyed us three Freshmen skeptically.  
  
It was a good thing Ethan knew how to talk football, even if he didn't play it. He struck up a conversation with Jimbo on the tactics of a rival football team. The other Seniors got into it as well, a sign that they were willing to accept our presence. I pretended to follow the conversation, but seeing as I could care less about football, I tuned out. I watched Lizzie and Miranda out of the corner of my eye.  
  
When we'd first left them, they simply stood there awkwardly. I could almost read their minds. Looking around, they realized they didn't know anyone. There were no familiar Freshman faces to join other than me and my friends, and they wouldn't dare approach us. Everyone around them was laughing obnoxiously and having fun, while they nervously looked around the room. They eventually moved to the kitchen and lingered around the table of food; it was a neutral area. They could bide their time there without calling attention to the fact that they were round pegs in a house full of squares.  
  
Nic returned to us, carrying beers for him and Claire. He noticed with curiosity who we were standing with, but didn't make any comment.  
  
"Hey, kid," said Jimbo. "Where's mine?" The other Seniors laughed loudly. Nic's eyes widened with fear under the gaze of the bulky Senior.  
  
"Er.... How about I go get you one?" Nic struggled to reply.  
  
Jimbo laughed and his beer belly jiggled. "Good plan." Within minutes Nic found himself bombarded with requests from the rest of the group. He left to fetch the alcohol, and I wondered how he would possibly carry all those drinks.  
  
The night wore on. I eventually grew tired of football chatter, and wandered off to other circles with Claire at my side. Claire was unusually quiet. As I put forth effort to make conversation and meet my social quota for the day, she stood quietly and sipped her beer with a bored look on her face.  
  
"What's the matter with you?" I scolded as we moved away from a group of cheerleaders and went on a search for more people to talk to. "You look like some one ran over your dog."  
  
She shrugged. "I'm tired."  
  
"Oh, really? I suppose you were too tired to pick out a decent outfit, too?" I scuffed at her dark ensemble. It was actually a really nice outfit, but it looked utterly ridiculous in the current setting.  
  
"You're just jealous of how well I'm pulling this look off."  
  
I smiled slightly. Claire hadn't hit me with a snappy comeback in days. I was beginning to think she'd gone soft. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Elvira."  
  
Claire sighed and looked at her bottle. "I'm empty. Come with me to get another."  
  
"How many have you had? I've never seen you drink this much."  
  
"Spare me the lecture, Kate."  
  
I sighed. "I'm not really keen on fighting my way to the stash of beer right now, Claire. I'll go find Ethan while you get another."  
  
Claire rolled her eyes in response and walked away. I surveyed the crowd for my boyfriend. Everyone had gotten considerably more rowdy due to the introduction of alcohol. Jimbo was tripping over himself as he attempted to walk across the room. I noticed Jordan and Penny on a couch in the corner of the room. Jordan kissed pleadingly along Penny's neck and collarbone. His hand rested firmly on her thigh. Penny was half-heartedly pushing him away. "Come on," I read his lips say. "Come on." I saw Penny mouth, "Not right now." Jordan's eyes appeared hungry as he kissed and touched an irritated Penny.  
  
I became suddenly grateful that Ethan was a gentle creature. He was never overly grab-happy. His affection was always extremely modest. Even when he was just chatting with friends, the very mention of something sexual made him blush. As I watched Jordan's desirous groping, I realized I took it for granted that my boyfriend never asked more of me. I despised the way it felt when a boy touched me. They crave something you don't want to give them, and they grab you as if you should completely succumb to their superiority and do whatever they say. No one tells me what to do. I insist on being the one who is superior. The utter lack of control boys have over themselves is revolting.  
  
I found Ethan in the den, moshing with the hard core group. Much to my surprise, Miranda was also a part of the group, letting loose. I laughed when Ethan's head, swinging wildly about, bashed right up against Miranda's.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry, dawg," he said, as Miranda clutched her head in pain.  
  
Lizzie stood against the while, watching her friend and smiling encouragingly. I slithered over to her. "How are you enjoying your evening, McGuire?" I asked.  
  
"It's great," she said. Neither of us spoke with kindness in our tone.  
  
"Yeah, well, the night is young." I stepped closer to her and stared her down. "Don't expect one party invite to change your whole little world, McGuire. Dorks don't just transform over night. No matter what happens here, come Monday you'll still be a loser. Don't forget it."  
  
Lizzie spoke coldly. "I'm just here to have a good time, Kate. Back off."  
  
I shrugged and changed the subject. "So... no mosh pit for you?"  
  
"I'm not really into that."  
  
"Of course you're not. Big bad mosh pits are too rough for good girl McGuire. It's okay if you're too scared."  
  
"Uh!" Lizzie folded her arms indignantly. "I am not scared."  
  
"Oh yeah? Prove it."  
  
Lizzie swallowed hard. "F-fine." She glared at me and marched determinedly to the mosh pit. Slowly, awkwardly, she started head banging and bashing around with the rest.  
  
"Hey, hey! What do we have here?" A drunken, staggering Jimbo walked into the den with a foamy plastic cup of beer in his hand. I looked at him, then at Lizzie in the mosh pit. The evil wheels started turning. I grinned.  
  
"Jimbo," I said. "Come here."  
  
He stumbled over to me. "What'sssss up, Sssssanderz?"  
  
I pointed to Lizzie. "See that blonde girl there? She's never moshed before. Why don't you help her out for me?" I grinned innocently.  
  
Jimbo smiled stupidly and pat my shoulder. "Ssssssssure thing, Ssssssssanderz. Woo-hoo! Mosh pit!"  
  
My eyes lit up as the events played out before me. Enormous Jimbo dived at petite Lizzie, who let out a high-pitched scream as he called out, "Mosh pit!" yet again. He knocked her to the ground; amber liquid spilled out of his cup and splashed all over her. For a moment I thought she might suffocate beneath Jimbo's massive weight, for he was so drunk he could hardly regain his balance. Lizzie kept screaming, but her cries were buried beneath the raging music and she went unnoticed by the moshers. A few people laughed as they spotted her on the ground.  
  
She got up, still screaming, and ran out of the room. I saw tears coating her cheeks as she passed me. I expected to see Miranda dash after her, but Miranda was lost in the sea of moshers and apparently hadn't seen a thing. I felt an unexpected pang in the pit of my stomach. Making a fool of Lizzie hadn't felt as good as I thought it would.  
  
Look, she's miserable, I told myself. That's exactly what you want. Right?  
  
Unbelievably, I found myself going after her. I wandered past the living room and through the halls of the house, looking for where she'd gone. I opened the bathroom door and saw her sitting on the side of the bathtub, crying.  
  
"Well, well," was all I could say.  
  
"Please don't," Lizzie mumbled. "You've done enough. Please don't start with me."  
  
Was she telling me what to do? I found myself furious at her request, but as I watched her rock back and forth and moan, I didn't have the heart to bring her down any lower. "It's not all that bad... Hardly anyone saw."  
  
"Look at me, Kate!" She held out her arms and revealed her booze-soaked t- shirt. "My clothes are ruined, and I smell like beer. How am I going to explain this to my parents? They'll think I was getting drunk. They're going to murder me."  
  
I said nothing. Lizzie continued to cry. I kept telling myself to get up and leave, to just walk away and let her deal with it. It wasn't my problem. But I was frozen. I sat there, listening to her cry, losing myself in the sad picture before me. Even with running mascara and clothes soaked in liquor, she was beautiful. She was a fragile and innocent creature. All she wanted was to come to a party and have fun. She just wanted to know what it felt like to be popular, if only for one night. Don't you see it's not worth it, Lizzie? I thought sadly to myself. All the gloss and glamour do nothing to make up for the pain and sacrifice.  
  
My body acted without my permission. Much to the surprise of both Lizzie and me, I wrapped my arms around her and embraced her. 


	11. Ten: Helping the Enemy

"I'm sorry, Lizzie," I said. They were words I never thought I'd speak. I so badly to either kiss her, or say something rude and horrible to her. I didn't have the strength to do either, so I settled for simply being nice.  
  
We broke our embrace. Lizzie wiped her face. "It's okay," she replied automatically, though from the look on her face I could tell it was not okay.  
  
I struggled to speak. "Lizzie.... You can, um... You can come home with me if you want."  
  
She stared at me.  
  
I hoped to God I wasn't blushing. "I mean, we'll call your parents and tell them you're staying the night with me. We'll wash your clothes at my house, and they'll never know anything happened."  
  
Her tears softened, and she wiped her face again. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Of course. People have to crash at my house all the time when they can't go home because they're wasted... Not that you are or anything. I mean... You know what I mean." What the hell? Get a hold of yourself, Sanders. You've always been able to keep your cool around Lizzie before.  
  
She smiled weakly. "Okay."  
  
"Wait here." I left the bathroom to find Ethan and retrieve my cell phone from his pocket. I hurried back to the bathroom, where Lizzie was waiting. I had her dial her number, but she told me she wanted me to ask.  
  
"Mrs. McGuire?" I said in my sweetest, parent-friendly tone. "This is Kate Sanders... I'm at Kayla's party with Lizzie... No, no, Lizzie's fine... A few of the girls are coming over and staying the night at my house after the party, and I was wondering if Lizzie could come, too... Yes, they'll be there..." After a considerable amount of convincing, Mrs. McGuire permitted Lizzie to come home with me-- provided my parents called her as soon as we got home.  
  
We sat in awkward silence in Kayla McKinley's peach-colored bathroom while Lizzie regained composure. We finally decided to leave around the point when a drunken boy with dreadlocks ran in and vomited.  
  
Re-entering the party with Lizzie was a surreal experience. I wasn't used to be civil with her, especially not in public. No one at that party knew who Lizzie was, and few of them even knew who I was. If it had been a Freshman party, things would have been entirely different. But since no one would pay any attention to us, I allowed myself to break yet another one of my rules and walk beside Lizzie McGuire, as if she was a friend. It was weird, and we both knew it.  
  
I found Claire in the kitchen, talking to Miranda again. Just like in Mythology the day before, their conversation was silenced upon my arrival. I became even more suspicious of what was so secretive. I made a mental note to bitch out Claire later. I would have loved to start something right then and there, but the fact that I had Lizzie tagging along meant I had no valid argument. If I asked her why the hell she was hanging out with Miranda, she would simply retaliate with asking why I was hanging out with Lizzie.  
  
"Have you seen Penny and Jordan lately?" I asked her. "I'm kind of ready to get out of here."  
  
Claire's eyes fell upon Lizzie and lit up with curiosity. She pursed her lips, obviously wanting to make a comment, but stopped herself. "I haven't seen them since we got here," she answered. Her voice was slurred a bit. "What's your hurry?"  
  
I shrugged. There was no way I was going to tell her the reason I wanted to leave was actually because Lizzie was ready to go. "This party really isn't all that great."  
  
She eyed me in disbelief. She knew me well enough to know I was hiding something, but I knew she didn't have a clue what it was. I noticed she seemed slightly off-balance. "Well, let's find Nic. Maybe he knows."  
  
Claire and I left the kitchen while Miranda and Lizzie remained. As we walked through the halls of the extravagant home I noticed the partygoers were dropping like flies. Many of them had left, and a fair amount was collapsed in a drunken stupor. Nowhere in this mess did I see Ethan or Nic, much less Penny and Jordan. As we searched, Claire looked over at me questioningly.  
  
"McGuire?" she asked.  
  
I matched her gaze. "Sanchez?"  
  
We both chose not to answer.  
  
A door swung open in the hall and someone jumped at me. Claire and I both screamed, while Ethan giggled with delight.  
  
"You should have seen your face," he said, his cheeks rosy with a childish grin as he placed an arm around me. "That was great."  
  
Claire rolled her eyes. "Very funny. Have you seen Penny and Jordan?"  
  
Ethan scratched his head. "Yeah, I saw them heading back towards Kayla's parents bedroom just a few minutes ago."  
  
"Terrific. We'll be here all night now."  
  
"Let's see if we can find them," I interrupted. The three of turned around and headed in the opposite direction. Ethan led us to the room he claimed belonged to Kayla's parents' room. The door was locked. I could distinctly hear Penny's voice inside the room. We knocked and called out her name. For a while there was no response.  
  
"Go away!" she screamed at last. "I'm busy!"  
  
I sighed. "I guess we'll have to wait around until they're... finished."  
  
Ethan's face lit up. "I say we bust out Kayla's DVD collection."  
  
"I say we bust out the 'rents liquor stash," countered Claire.  
  
I nodded vaguely to each of their suggestions. My mind was intently focused on Lizzie. I knew she didn't feel like spending another minute at that party, but without a ride there was nothing I could do about it.  
  
We found Nic in the kitchen. He must have been reading Claire's mind, for he had climbed up on the counter and searched through each of the cabinets; his search had turned up several bottles of expensive liquor. Miranda and Lizzie were snacking on the remainder of the cheese cubes, watching in horror.  
  
"Can you give Miranda a ride home, Kate?" Lizzie asked. "She was supposed to spend the night with me, but... you know." She looked down at her beer- stained shirt.  
  
I rolled my eyes in exasperation. "As if. There's no way we can convince Jordan to drive all the way over to *your* neighborhood this late at night."  
  
My glared at me, then turned to Lizzie. "It's all right, I don't want to ride with you guys anyway," she spat. "I'll call my mom."  
  
We carried the booze and a portion of the snacks into the living room. Ethan produced a DVD of "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure" and placed it in the player. There were ten to fifteen guests left in the living room. Some of them got up to watch the movie with us, but most were either too drunk to move or too busy making out. I sat in the middle of a plush red couch. Claire sat to my left, Lizzie on my right. A random stranger curled up on the other side of Claire. Ethan had a seat on the floor in front of the couch, leaning against my legs slightly. Nic was in one of the recliners with plenty of booze to keep him busy. A few minutes after the movie started, Miranda returned to us and sat on the floor next to Ethan.  
  
The movie bored me, though Ethan and many others were cracking up through the entire thing. Ten minutes into the movie, I looked over and saw Lizzie fast asleep. Her face was soft in the glow of the big screen television as she slept. On the other side of me, Claire was getting progressively drunk, curled up with a large bottle of aged liquor. At some point in the movie, I heard fits of laughter explode from the floor beneath me that yanked me out of my zone. I looked down and saw Miranda and Ethan, falling over as they laughed at the mishaps of Keanu Reeves and the other guy. Miranda's head fell softly on Ethan's shoulder. I kicked her.  
  
She growled and looked up at me. "Everything okay up there, Kate?" she hissed.  
  
"Why are you still here, Sanchez?" I snapped with equal coldness. "I thought your mom was coming to get you."  
  
"She is. It's a bit of drive from where I live."  
  
I grinned malevolently. "I'll bet it is. The barrio's not too close to this neighborhood, is it?" Even in the dim living room, I saw her face go red with fury.  
  
"Just what is that supposed to mean?"  
  
The doorbell rang, sparing Miranda from any more of my merciless insults. She got up and left the living room to answer the door. It must have been her mother, because she didn't come back.  
  
The movie was nearing the end. My eyes were getting heavy, and Claire looked about ready to throw up. Jordan entered the living room, coming from the den. I looked over at him.  
  
"Where's Penny?" I asked.  
  
He shrugged. "You got me. I haven't seen her in hours."  
  
I was confused. "But then... where have you been all this time?"  
  
"Getting stoned with Chris and Ben. Why?"  
  
I inhaled suddenly as things clicked in my head. I realized with fascination that the male voice in the bedroom with Penny was someone other than Jordan. "Uh... no reason. Are you ready to head out of here?"  
  
Jordan nodded and rubbed his face tiredly. "Yeah. I'll find Pen and we can jet."  
  
I stood up quickly. "I'll find her!" I offered. "I think I saw her heading to the bathroom not too long ago."  
  
I left the living room abruptly and heading towards the back of the house. On the way I passed an upperclassman I didn't recognize, a senior guy with disheveled blonde hair. The hall to Kayla's parents' room was no longer locked, but cracked slightly. I pushed it open slowly. Penny sat alone on the bed, sliding her purple top over a hot pink bra. Her eyes widened in panic at the sight of me before quickly relaxing.  
  
"The rest of us are ready to leave," I said quietly. I was intensely curious about this whole scenario, but I knew enough to keep my mouth shut. "I think you should drive. Jordan's pretty baked."  
  
Penny nodded. "No problem." She grabbed a ponytail holder off the nightstand and pulled up her deflated hair. She stood up and smoothed out her clothes. She grabbed her purse off the floor and carried it over to the vanity, where she reapplied her make-up. As she was putting everything away, she looked over at me and quite casually remarked, "You're a smart girl, right, Katums?"  
  
"I'd say so," I replied.  
  
"Smart enough not to mention this, of course?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
She nodded, and we left.  
  
When I went to wake up Lizzie, I saw that Claire had passed out as well. I sighed. I would need to bring Claire home as well, since she was absolutely smashed. I was slightly disappointed. I would have enjoyed spending time with just Lizzie. But I supposed it was better for me not to be left alone with her; I had been acting so out of character tonight, who knows what regrettable things I might say to Lizzie if I was alone with her.  
  
Dragging Claire to Jordan's car proved to be a difficult task. She was so drunk she could hardly walk. Lizzie ended up helping me carry her. The drive home was a tight fit. Nic, Jordan, and Penny sat up front, while Lizzie, Ethan, Claire, and I were squished in the back. It was about 3:00 in the morning at that point, and all of us were too tired to make conversation. Jordan tuned the radio to a station that played old rock music. The volume was low, and the reception had alot of static.  
  
Lizzie and I unloaded Claire at my house and carried her inside. The house was dark except for the blue glow of the TV in the living room. It was an infomercial for some miracle-working kitchen appliance.  
  
"Button, is that you?" a slurred voice called from the living room.  
  
I sighed. Mother was awake, and quite obviously drunk. "Yeah, Mom. I'm home and I'm going to bed. I brought some friends, and we're all too tired to talk, okay?"  
  
I heard her stand up and walk to the entryway. Lizzie and I had the half- conscious Claire's arms draped around us to keep her from falling to the ground. I tried to get Lizzie to move up the stairs so we could avoid my mother, but Lizzie didn't move. I assumed she thought it would be rude to run away while my mom was speaking to us.  
  
"What friends?" my mother asked as she came towards us. She came into the light of the entryway. She held a wine glass full of Vodka. It was a beautiful irony: hard liquor in a classy goblet. "Lizzie McGuire? How delightful... Kate never brings home good kids like you anymore."  
  
"You're absolutely right, Mom," I said without sincerity, rushing the conversation along. "Too bad there's no time for catching up. We're all tuckered out." Come on, Lizzie, let's go upstairs." Lizzie looked uncertainly between my mother and me, and took slow steps toward the stairway.  
  
My mother looked at the drunken Claire, head bobbing from side to side as we held her. Mom laughed at her. "But of course you had to bring this one, didn't you?" Her voice was cruel and cold. "She's looking just lovely tonight, isn't she? Filthy piece of shit, this one."  
  
Lizzie's eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the comment. I rolled my eyes and ignored it, for it was nothing new. My mother had never liked Claire. "Goodnight, mom. Kisses." I motioned for Lizzie to move. This time, she didn't hesitate to hurry up the stairs. 


	12. Eleven: Window

We threw Claire on my bed. My shoulders felt relieved. Lizzie looked timidly around the room.  
  
"Don't worry about my mom," I said. "She's just a little out there."  
  
"Oh," said Lizzie quietly. It was a neutral response.  
  
I spoke harshly. "Don't 'oh' me, McGuire. I know what you're thinking, okay? I don't need you feeling sorry for me."  
  
"I didn't say anything."  
  
"Look, I don't want your pity. Let's not forget who's who here. If you even think about feeling sorry for me, or tell anyone about tonight, I'll make your every last day at Hillridge a living nightmare."  
  
"I won't say anything."  
  
I felt awkward. I lashed out at her, but she didn't seem to care. I would normally expect her to get defensive and try to tell me off, but she wasn't even angry. She stood calmly, almost distracted, still looking around my room.  
  
I moved to the dresser and pulled out a pair of my pajamas. "Here," I said, handing them to Lizzie. "You can sleep in this tonight, and we'll take your clothes downstairs to the laundry room. You can crash in the guest room, two doors down." Lizzie nodded. I reached into the drawer and pulled out clothes for myself. "I'm taking a shower now... make yourself at home, I guess."  
  
It was such an odd situation. Being respectful to anyone who walked in our house was something that had been drilled into me since birth, but I was unaccustomed to being hospitable to Lizzie. It felt so natural to be nice to her, and that scared me. How nice was too nice? I didn't trust myself to say or do the right things around her.  
  
I turned away from her quickly and moved to exit the room. As I shut the door behind me, I had to stop myself from watching as she slipped out of her clothes and dressed herself in mine.  
  
She was gone when I came back from my shower, her clothes lying in my floor. I picked them up and examined them. I felt so strange, holding them in my hands. It felt far too personal. I carried them downstairs to the laundry room. I heard my mother snoring from the couch as I passed through the living room. When I came back upstairs, I saw that the door to the guest room had been left open. Lizzie was curled beneath the blankets, eyes closed and breathing softly. I forced myself to keep walking instead of lingering to watch her.  
  
I went into my bedroom and shoved aside the inebriated Claire. What a friend I was, to take such good care of her. I made I mental note to tell her later that she owed me. As I curled beneath the covers, my eyelids suddenly felt heavy. I drifted quickly to sleep.  
  
I woke up sweating some time later. I looked over at my alarm clock: 6:44 AM. My face was hot. Claire was still snoring beside me. I pushed the blankets off of me and slid off the bed. I felt dizzy, and I couldn't help but notice how warm it seemed to have gotten in the room. I walked to the window. The sky was ashy blue, fading from night to morning.  
  
I crept downstairs through the quiet house. My mother was still sprawled across the couch, make-up smeared from her soft skin, wisps of blonde hair flying in various directions, the empty glass barely remaining in her fingers. She was like a dying angel. I continued past her lifeless body into the kitchen.  
  
I was surprised to see Lizzie sitting at the table eating toast. The kitchen lights had not been turned on. Instead, the room was lit only by the weak light of the rising sun through the windows. She looked over at me and blushed slightly.  
  
"I always wake up early when I'm at other people's houses," she said quietly, smiling in an embarrassed sort of way. "I don't know why. I've been doing it since I was little."  
  
I nodded my head in understanding. "I know. I remember that from when..." I had to stop myself from saying "when we were friends." The last thing I needed was an awkward moment at the ass-crack of dawn. "From when we were younger."  
  
"Oh yeah. That's right."  
  
I retrieved a glass from the cabinet and filled it with orange juice. I took my drink and sat across from Lizzie as she ate.  
  
"Your, uh, laundry should be done by now," I said, trying to make conversation. I simply cannot sit with someone like that and not have a conversation. Silence is something I don't deal with well.  
  
Lizzie nodded. "Cool." Pause. Longer pause. "Kate. I know we're not on great terms or anything, but I appreciate what you did. I know it doesn't change anything between us, but I just wanted to thank you anyway."  
  
I looked across the table at those kind blue eyes. I wanted to say something, but words did not come easily. I was unnerved. Kate Sanders always has something to say; Kate is never left speechless. "Um... it's nothing. No problem. Any time."  
  
She grinned with amusement and raised an eyebrow. "Any time?"  
  
I laughed, catching on. "Okay, yeah. Not any time. Just, you know, when no one's looking."  
  
Lizzie laughed, too, as she got up to refill her glass with milk. I felt much more at ease knowing that the two of us could laugh about the barriers that kept us apart in the high school realm.  
  
"So, McGuire... how has high school been for you so far?"  
  
Lizzie returned to her seat and took a sip of milk. "It's been a sort of difficult adjustment, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought. When we got those threats from the high schoolers last year... I was sooo scared."  
  
I smiled. "Oh, come on. You didn't really take anything they said seriously, did you? I wasn't worried at all."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but that's because you had it in with the cheerleaders. You may not realize this, Miss Sanders, but the world is actually a little difficult for those of us who aren't protected by the pom pom cult."  
  
"Tuh! You think my life isn't difficult? It's not easy being beautiful, you know." I made a dramatic gesture towards my face, which wore a melodramatic expression. I was joking around, but as I did it I realized that I had just woken up. No make-up, hair disheveled; how could I have let Lizzie see me like that? Did I look awful?  
  
If Lizzie noticed, she certainly didn't let it show. "Oh yes, it must be way difficult." She twirled a lock of blonde hair around her finger and spoke in a ditzy falsetto voice. "Golly Jeepers, how will I ever find the time to date Ethan Craft AND be the most popular girl in the ninth grade AND get to cheerleading practice on time." She sighed sarcastically. "My life is just so hard."  
  
The two of us laughed together, something we hadn't done since our project on Latvia in the seventh grade. It was a wonderful moment when the two of us were able to let our guard down.  
  
"But seriously, Kate," she said once our laughter had died down. She seemed almost embarrassed to ask her question. "What's it like to date Ethan Craft?"  
  
My laughter faded, too, and I sighed. "Honestly? It's not all it's cracked up to be." What? Had I just said that to Lizzie McGuire? I wasn't supposed to be honest with her. I was supposed to gloss it up and rub it in her face. But I was locked in the moment. Lizzie and I were the only two people in the world when we were in my dimly lit kitchen, and I couldn't help but tell her the truth. "He's a great guy, and I love him, but it's not like your life magically becomes better just because you've got Ethan Craft. The thrill of it wears off quick."  
  
She nodded. "Yeah, but... he does have good hair."  
  
I grinned. "Oh, totally. That much never changes." She smiled back at me. "What about you, though? How are things going with Gordo in the sparks department?"  
  
She sighed. "The sparks are dead."  
  
"Really? But I thought you guys hit it off this summer."  
  
"Yeah, we did. The romance of Italy will do that to you. We dated for a few weeks, but eventually we just broke up. It was too weird. You can't be friends with someone for that long and then try and change everything to make it a romantic relationship."  
  
"I guess that makes sense."  
  
She nodded. "I think it goes back to the whole Ethan mentality. People like him because he seems so unreachable. It's like, there's a mystery to him. Well, with Gordo, there were no mysteries. There were no sparks. Sometimes the person you should be with isn't the one you feel most comfortable around. It's the one that you'd never think of in a million years."  
  
"I know what you mean..." I mumbled softly. I looked at her face. The sun had completely risen at this point, and it poured from the window and outlined her in gold. She glowed, and I felt light-headed.  
  
She reached out suddenly and placed her hand on top of mine. "I really like this, Kate. When me and you can just talk and be friends like we used to be." I nodded vaguely. I wanted to kiss her, but I wouldn't dare. I was frozen where I sat. "I feel like I can really open up to you."  
  
I looked down. "Yeah. Me too. But you know we can't be friends again." No! Why did I say that? Why did I finally decide to put my walls back up? "We're like on two different planets."  
  
She pulled her hand away and nodded. "I know. That's high school for you." She was still smiling, but I saw something flicker in her eyes. For a moment I saw a kind of sadness I'd never seen in anyone's eyes before. Her voice changed. It felt different; darker. "Do you ever feel... like you're not inside yourself? Like, you go around every day and live your life, but when you get home at night you suddenly feel like someone else has been running the controls inside your head. And you don't know who you are, you just sit there and watch things go by."  
  
I did not know what to think. Her tone had changed so swiftly. Something was wrong. "Um... I don't think so." That was a lie. I knew exactly what she meant, even though I was confused at why she had said it. I knew what it felt like to live inside a shell.  
  
As quickly as her mood had darkened, she perked right back up. The sadness was gone from her eyes, though I still felt it linger inside me. "Just wondering. It was a random question, really... the kind of thing you think up this early in the morning, eh?"  
  
I nodded slowly. "Um... right. I'm, uh, I'm going to go check on your laundry." I stood up and left her there in my kitchen. I walked briskly to the laundry room, hoping she hadn't followed me. I sat down on top of the washing machine and took a deep breath, wiping tears from my face.  
  
When Lizzie's mom showed up a few hours later, I had to make a well-crafted apology for not having my parents call her like I promised. I used the excuse that my mother and father were both asleep; Lizzie backed up my story. Mrs. McGuire finally gave in and accepted our story.  
  
At some point soon after my mother woke up. She took a few aspirin and moved upstairs, too out of it to even acknowledge my presence. I sat on the couch, staring at the TV that I hadn't turned on. What had happened that morning? There was a window. A tiny window that Lizzie opened for just a brief moment to let me see inside her. In that window, I saw a side of Lizzie I'd never seen or even imagined before. It only heightened my longing for her. What else didn't I know about her? I was suddenly hungry to know more. So I guess Lizzie was right about the appeal of mystery.  
  
I wondered if I had done the same thing. Had I opened a window to her? Had I let her see something that no one else had seen? The thought both frightened and warmed me. I almost wanted her to see me. For the first time, I actually wanted someone to see me for what I was. For a moment I felt like I didn't have the strength to pretend any more.  
  
Claire came downstairs. She looked about as awful as my mother did. She sat down beside me on the couch and cracked a smile.  
  
"I'm never drinking as long as I live," she said with a laugh, rubbing her forehead.  
  
"Yeah," I replied, still staring off into space.  
  
She stared at me. "Hello? Earth to Kate? What's up with you?"  
  
I broke away from my train of thought and was a little snappy in my response. "Nothing. I just woke up really early this morning and I couldn't fall back asleep."  
  
"Oh. I guess I'll lay off then." She playfully nudged my shoulder. "I know how pissy you get when you don't get enough sleep."  
  
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. Whatever."  
  
She frowned. "You must really be out of it. I can't even get a rise out of you."  
  
"It's just... Like, have you ever felt like you're not inside yourself?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Like someone's inside your head running the controls?"  
  
She sighed and shook her head. "Kate, what is your problem? It's like you and I can't even talk any more. You're always off in your own world, like a freak."  
  
I turned to her, feeling angry. "What do you mean freak? At least I'm not the one who dresses like a goth for a party and then gets drunk off her ass."  
  
"No, you'd prefer to blow off your friend for someone older and be a royal bitch."  
  
"I may be a royal bitch but at least I can hold my own. Face it, Claire, you're nothing without me. All I have to do is say the word and you're gone."  
  
Claire was fuming. "Then do it! See if I care." She shook her head. "It's like I don't even know you any more. What the hell is going on with you?"  
  
Why did we have to fight now? My mind was too full to have to deal with Claire. But maybe she had a point. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I be the same old untouchable Kate? What had come over me?  
  
My eyes filled with tears. "I'm in love, damn it! Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? I'm in love with a girl. You're right, I'm a total freak, because I'm in love with the last person I should be in love with, and I can't stop it!"  
  
There. My secret was out, I had spoken it out loud. I looked at Claire, expecting her to laugh or be disgusted or something. But instead she just smiled. "You have no idea," she said softly. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
But I couldn't say anything else. The next thing I knew, Claire was on top of me, and we were kissing. 


	13. Twelve: Monday

I should have ended it there. I should have explained to Claire that there had been a misunderstanding, that she wasn't the one I was in love with. But instead, I kept my mouth shut and went along with it. I was too afraid of what Claire might do if I rejected her. Claire doesn't deal well with not getting her way, and she isn't someone you want to be around when she's angry. But the thought that scared me the most was that Claire would betray me. I knew that if she couldn't have me, she would settle for the next best thing, which was to make my life miserable. She would expose my secret, and that was something I could never live with. 

So Claire became my girlfriend. Besides working my way up the social ladder, keeping Ethan in check, and hiding my feelings from Lizzie, I now had to also worry about keeping my "in the closet" girlfriend happy. The last thing I needed then was more shit to deal with, but I suppose it was my own fault. I was baffled the most by how well Claire had kept her secret. She had always seemed so jealous of me and Ethan, but I had never dreamed that it was because she wanted me, and not Ethan. It was an intriguing side to Claire, and as angry as I was about having to go along with her little crush, I was impressed nonetheless. She was every bit as crafty as I knew she could be. I made a note to learn from her techniques, so that I could hide my own feelings more effectively. 

Kissing Claire was awkward. Watching her watching me was unnerving. Seeing that look in her eyes was almost frightening. All this time, I had never known. I had never even imagined. I had never seen her act this way around anyone, let alone me. I didn't like the thought of Claire being someone completely different from what I thought she was.

"Button," said my mother as we ate lunch together on Sunday. "What kind of party are we planning this year? I'm thinking we should step it up a bit from last year. It is your sweet sixteen, after all." 

I sipped my diet coke and contemplated, gazing across the table at my mother. "Sure thing, Mom," I replied in my ever-plastic tone. Birthday parties were something of a touchy subject to me. I was naturally drawn to the idea of being the center of attention, but repeated disasters with birthdays in the past gave me an overall bad feeling about them.

My mother grinned, her professionally bleached teeth gleaming. "Wonderful. We'll get started right away. Is it this Saturday or the one after?" 

I laughed softly, bitterly. "It's this Saturday. My birthday is September twenty-seventh, remember? I'm pretty sure you were there that day sixteen years ago, unless of course you were out of town." 

She tossed back her head in a feminine laugh. "Oh, Kate, sweetie. You've got your father's infectious humor." 

"Oh, totally." I got up and briskly exited the kitchen. My mother did not seem to notice the sarcasm in my voice. She never did, of course. She only laughed again, not realizing the joke was on her. 

I was worried about how to act at school the following Monday. It had been such an outrageous weekend. First, my heart-to-heart with McGuire, and then my sudden "relationship" with Claire. I kept having the fear that everything was going to be awkward, and that somehow it would all blow up in my face. My fears were in vain, however, for everything went as normal. Lizzie and I ignored each other as usual, and Claire acted completely calm. It was as if nothing had happened at all. I noted to myself that Claire was a much better actress than I'd ever assumed she was. 

In first period, piles of mug shots were stacked along the back table, just waiting for Claire and I to sort through. The yearbook staff was scattered around the room and chatting with each other. The talking continued even as the tardy bell rang at last and the morning announcements came on. 

"Ahem," Penny hissed rather loudly. "Let's all be respectful and shut up for the announcements." 

The talking faded away as the principal's voice droned on through the speaker in his deadpan voice, "...and the water fountain is not to be used for bathing at any time, even after school hours, Mr. Kessler. Finally, we would like to offer our congratulations to Hillridge's own Penny Hawkens. This weekend it was announced that Penny's essay won the State of California's Youth Social Awareness Award. She's made us all proud. Now please stand for the pledge of allegiance." 

As the class mumbled the pledge unenthusiastically, I noticed that Penny look particularly radiant that morning. She stood tall and smiled as she recited the pledge, obviously glowing with pride for herself. I had to give her credit. She was able to master beauty and brains, which is no mean feat. Anyone can be beautiful, if they know the tricks. And anyone can be academically successful if they work hard enough. Sure, there are always those who are naturally attractive or naturally smart, but any idiot can pull it off if they really want it. But Penny took on them both, and she was good at it. She had all of Hillridge High absolutely wrapped around her finger. I genuinely looked up to her. I knew that if I watched her, learned her tricks, that someday I would be her. 

"Kate," said Penny, turning to me when the announcements had finished. "Don't forget about the poll today." 

"I'm all over it," I told her, even though I had, in fact, forgotten all about it. "Oh, and... Congratulations on your essay." 

She beamed. "Thank you." 

****

Lunchtime came around and I walked into the courtyard with pen and paper in hand. I searched through the sea of faces for Claire, who I'd recruited for help with the poll. I found her in the area our clique usually occupied. She was standing a little ways away from the group, talking to Ethan. They seemed to actually be having a nice conversation, which meant something was definitely up. Ethan and Claire hadn't gotten along since middle school. 

Claire saw me coming, and waved. She muttered a few last-minute words to Ethan and then moved to greet me. "Hey girl," she said. 

"What were you and Ethan chatting about?" I asked suspiciously. 

"Oh, you know Ethan," she said. "He has no idea what to get you for your birthday. Actually, he didn't even remember it was your birthday until I brought it up." 

"Oh." I had been expecting something much more devious, but her story actually made sense. Ethan can't even remember his own birthday. "Well, you told him to get me something good, right?" 

She smiled. "Of course. When have I ever not had your back?" 

I could have listed off for her several times when she didn't have my back, one of them being our seventh grade social studies project, but I chose not to say anything. I wasn't in the mood for bickering. "Right. Well, come help me with this stupid poll. We have to make everyone else feels like their opinion matters." The two of us laughed. 

****

"Let's see some pep, ladies!" screamed Georgette Skyler, our captain. "We don't win state competitions by sitting on our asses!"  


With a collective groan, the members of our cheerleading squad returned to the gym floor after a water break. I glanced desperately at the clock on the wall as I walked to my position to run our competition routine yet again. It was seventh period, the end of an exhausting Monday, and I was more than ready to go home.

Georgette pressed play on the stereo and a fast-paced dance mix began to pour from the speakers. Robotically, I hit my marks and danced in time with music. Focusing on my moves proved to be nearly impossible; my mind was somewhere else. So many things were weighing down on me just then. Dealing with Claire's sudden affections for me proved to be quite an annoyance. There was also my birthday party to worry about, yearbook deadlines, cheerleading competition, the threatening looks Gourda and Esmerelda kept giving me, my endless confusion over Lizzie, and the ever-present feeling that all of it was going to cave in on itself at any moment.

"Sanders, flash us a smile! Frowns don't win state competitions, people!"

I smiled with false cheerfulness as we continued through the routine. When we were finished, all of us were sweating and worn-out. Georgette looked ready to make us run it again, but we were rescued by the ringing bell.

I went into the locker room and removed my sweaty gym clothes. I reapplied my mounds of make-up, rebuilt my hair-do, and made myself beautiful for the world yet again. Not that I couldn't look hot doing the whole sweaty cheerleader thing, but one should learn moderation. I laughed softly at that thought as I coated my lips with lip gloss. Over-doing it had always been Lizzie's flaw. She just tried too hard; too much make-up, too many accessories, and all around too much effort. I knew better than anyone that she was gorgeous, but it was the fact that you could tell she overdid it that made her different from me. It's what made me stand-out, while she faded into the crowd as just another wannabe. 

"Katums," said Penny, approaching me with her ever-present liveliness. Now here was a girl who knew the art of subtlety. And yet… I couldn't help but feel there was something not quite right with Penny. I knew she had a weakness, I just didn't know what it was yet. But if anyone could see through her, it would be me.

"Yes, Penny?" I asked with a smile, packing my things into my bag.

"Do you have the poll results?"

I nodded, opening my pink binder and handing her a few sheets of paper. "Here you go. Claire and I covered just about the entire courtyard."

She looked over the papers skeptically, the kind of look on her face that was supposed to make me feel nervous as she judged my work. "Not bad," she said at last, stowing the poll into her own bag. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Later." Penny walked away, and I threw my bag over my shoulder. I felt like I could have collapsed right there. _Brighten up, Sanders, _I thought tiredly to myself. It was time to paint on a smile and walk out into the world again, looking beautiful for that same sea of endless faces.


	14. Thirteen: Group Work

I sat on my couch next to Claire in silence, staring into space. She ran her fingers through my hair and watched me, a harmonious smile on her face. I just looked away, wishing Miranda and Lizzie would hurry up and get there. It was Wednesday, and we were supposed to meet to put together our Greek Mythology project.

The doorbell rang, and I jumped to get it. Claire held onto my hand, letting it linger before finally letting go as I walked away. I opened the door and saw Lizzie and Miranda on my front porch, weighed down with books, art supplies, and tupperware.

"Hey, Kate," said Lizzie, trying to sound as indifferent as possible. I nodded in response with equal indifference and motioned for them to come inside. Miranda gave me a look of pure, icy hatred as she walked through the door, and I returned it.

"We brought cookies," Lizzie said as she walked into the living room.

"Well, super, Suzy Homemaker," Claire said with a chortle from the couch. She crossed her legs and ran her hands through her flowing hair, glaring at the two of them with intimidation.

"We're working in the sunroom," I announced to all of them. "There's enough room back there." I turned and walked towards the back of the house, and the others followed me awkwardly. I could tell it was going to be a long afternoon.

We spread out our poster board on the floor of the sunroom. We laid out our collective research and rubrics and got to work making the presentation. We avoided speaking to one another. Any attempt at conversation would only turn into ruthless name-calling and bickering, and there was a sort of silent agreement between us that none of us were in the mood for that.

The autumn sun poured through the glass walls as we cut, paste, and colored. As we worked, it gradually fell lower into the sky, marking time with its changing hues. When the skies melted into layers of dark blue, magenta, and orange, and the sun was slumped over the horizon's edge, we were nearly finished with our work. I was grateful for the relative ease with which we'd completed our task. Sure, Sanchez and I had thrown a few icy comments around, but fortunately nothing had escalated to an all-out war.

I reached for the red marker to finish the robes on my portrait of Aphrodite. Lizzie reached for it, too, and for a moment our hands touched.

"Buzz off, McGuire, I was here first," I said, ignoring the softness of her skin. I looked up at her, expecting to see a scowl on her face. Instead, our eyes met, and she gave me what was almost a smile. Not the kind of smile I always longed for, but a smile nonetheless. 

The gaze was broken as quickly as it was made, and I wondered if maybe I had imagined the whole thing. Lizzie sighed. "Whatever, Kate," she said simply. I snatched up the red marker quickly and went back to my poster, fighting any urge I had to take another glance at her.

It was a few minutes later, when we were cleaning up our materials, that we heard Amy's voice yelling from the living room. "Lizzie!" she screamed, clearly too lazy to walk back to the sunroom. "Your ride's here!"

"Okay," Lizzie called back. She picked up her book bag from the floor and slung it over her shoulder. "I guess I'll see you guys in Mythology tomorrow." Miranda bid her goodbye, Claire rolled her eyes and said nothing, and I nodded vaguely. Then it happened again. Her gaze met with mine for an immeasurable moment, something well hidden in them though I couldn't tell what.

Don't look at me like that, I thought coldly to myself even after she had gone. Don't mess with my head like that. It sent my mind spinning. It forced me to swim through the thoughts I always tried to push to the back of mind. It made me want more, and that was a painful thing to want. I wanted Lizzie. I wanted to know her, to be her friend again, to be something far more than a friend. But these feelings only made me hurt, because giving into that want was something I could never do.

I loved her. I suddenly remembered that only a few days ago I had admitted it out loud. The secret within me that had given me such hell for so long only grew worse when uttered in words. Because of it I was now in this mess with Claire. Even deeper than that, I now had to deal with the reality of it. At first, I was never able to explain or even understand my feelings. Speaking those words out loud made me face up to what those feelings really meant. Like always, I tried to push all emotions to the back of my head and not worry about them, but my feelings for Lizzie still lurked stealthily through my thoughts. I knew I would have to deal with them sooner or later.

Miranda's ride was late. She sat in a plush, dark green chair as she waited, avoiding eye-contact with Claire and I. Claire eventually disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a sandwich in one hand and a bottle of peach schnapps in the other. She ate and drank silently, while Miranda waited uncomfortably, Amy played video games, and I sat on the couch, distracted by thoughts of Lizzie.

A car horn honked outside, and Miranda stood up. "Don't forget to bring our project tomorrow," she said, finally looking me in the eyes.

I was dragged out of my thoughts, and I rolled my eyes. "As if I would forget, Sanchez. Remember, I'm the one with the 4.0, and you're the one with a tutor." I gave her one of my most evil, conceited faces.

Miranda drew her eyes away from me, shifting uncomfortably.

I laughed. "Oh, you thought no one knew? You thought it was just a big secret that you're a retard?" I laughed harder, and Miranda squirmed even more. "You're not fooling anyone, least of all me. Everyone knows you're just another failed original: thought you were being unique, when actually you were just hiding the fact that you could never fit in. You're nothing, so deal with it. And to think, I was trying to do you a favor by pushing you out of my radar, like the nothing you are. Yet you keep starting stuff up. Don't tangle with me, Sanchez. You'll lose."

She took in a deep breath, and stared at me with fiery eyes. She spoke fiercely. "Some day, Kate. Things are going to change. Some day it's all going to slip through your fingers. If you only knew..."

"Zip it, Sanchez," snapped Claire from where she was sitting. Both of us turned and stared at her. "Give it up already. Kate won, you lost, go home." She and Miranda's eyes were locked for a moment, Claire's being forceful and final. Finally, she mumbled a "whatever" and walked out the door.

Claire smiled sweetly at me once she was gone. "That was the longest two hours of my life," she said, shaking her head and sipping some more schnapps.

"Yeah," I said awkwardly. I didn't like the fact that she was looking at me that way, right in the open. I glanced quickly over at Amy, wondering what she thought about it. Luckily, Amy was lost in her video game as always, and was hardly aware of our presence.

"Let's go to your room," she said, noticing my discomfort. "We need to work on plans for your birthday party." I nodded vaguely, and the two of us walked upstairs, Claire still clutching the liquor bottle.

She set the bottle on the nightstand once we were in the safety of my room. She smiled at me again, which greatly unnerved me, and walked towards me. She wrapped her arms around my hips and pulled me to her, kissing me. Her silken lips and tongue pressed against mine, making me aware of a passion in Claire that I hadn't previously understood. It wasn't a completely unpleasant sensation, but I knew it was wrong, and that made me uneasy.

For the rest of the evening, while Claire and I hung out, I kept wishing I was somewhere else, or with someone else.

By the time she went home later that evening, we had finished all the flyers for the party and had drawn out the floor plan. We were making it an open party, but of course there would be someone at the door to give an ever so subtle hint to those who weren't welcome. There was still alot more to do throughout the week. Order the cake, buy supplies, and find something to wear. Despite my mother's eagerness to help with the planning, I knew I would be doing everything on my own. Give the woman a drink, and suddenly all promises are forgotten. And after the incident last year, I knew I definitely wasn't trusting Amy with any of the responsibilities.

As I was walking to the laundry room, I came across a bizarre sight: My mother was in the den, reading. I stepped inside with curiosity and found her curled up in a plush red chair, with a glass of liquor in one hand and a book in the other.

"Mom?" I asked in amazement. "What are you doing?"

She looked away from her book and up at me, her eyes cloudy and bloodshot. She smiled dreamily. "Hello there, precious. You're still awake?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's eight-thirty, Mom."

Her brow curled in confusion. She took another gulp of her drink.

"What in the world are you doing? I haven't seen you pick up a book since... ever."

She sighed heavily and slammed the book shut, tossing it onto the nearby sofa. "Oh, I don't know, button. I'm dreadfully bored. I thought I'd come in here and look through your father's books, but it's hurting my head."

Imagine that, I thought sarcastically. I figured she must have been having a pretty big pity-party this time, if she was desperate enough to read a book. Dad had left the day before for a business trip; he assured Mom that he would be fine without her so that she could stay for my party. She acted happy, but I knew she was actually hoping for an excuse to hop town. 

"Oh. Okay," I said. I turned to leave. She reached out and touched my arm softly.

"Leaving already? Why don't you stay and talk?" She pouted. "We never talk any more."

I could not hide the disgust from my face. "We've never talked, Mom. Ever. I've got tons of stuff on my mind and I really don't feel like babysitting you right now. Have another drink and leave me alone."

She glared at me. "Don't speak to me like that, Katherine Sanders." She rose up the hand her wine glass was in and shook her index finger at me. The amber liquid swirled around in the glass. "I am your mother and you will respect me!"

I sighed. "Sure thing, Mom. I'll respect you from my bedroom then. Kisses." I marched out of the room. She got up to chase after me, but stumbled and spilled her drink. She growled and muttered profanities as she frantically attempted to clean it up.

I went to bed that night, like so many other nights, filled with thoughts of how much I hated my mother.


	15. Fourteen: Birthday

Author's Note: Please check the first chapter ("Opening") for an updated warning/disclaimer/author's note.

That Saturday I awoke to the ringing phone. Tired and lazy as I always was on Saturdays, I struggled to open my eyes and locate the phone.

"Hello?" I said in a scratchy morning voice.

"Kate!" yelled Claire on the other end. "It's almost four o'clock in the afternoon! You were supposed to call me when you were ready to start setting up. You do realize your party starts in three hours, right?"

I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. "Come on over, I guess, and we'll just have to haul ass. Maybe my mom's already gotten a head start on things..." Even as I said those words, though, I could have laughed at myself. For all I knew, my mother didn't even remember it was my birthday, let alone be sober enough to start setting things up.

After I got off the phone with Claire, I pulled my hair into a ponytail so it would be out of my face, and applied light make-up. I went downstairs to grab a quick breakfast (or lunch... or maybe even dinner, actually) and see what work needed to get done. The house was strangely quiet as entered the kitchen. I noticed a yellow post-it stuck on the refrigerator:

__

Kate,

Missed Daddy too much and decided to catch a flight this morning. Didn't want to wake you. Don't forget to pick up your cake at 2:00. Kisses.

For a moment, I just stood in shock. I felt anger bubble inside me as I yanked the note off the fridge and crumpled it up. Of course, I said to myself. Of course she would abandon me on my birthday. Of course she wouldn't even bother to wake me up to say goodbye. Of course she would manage to do the very thing that would upset me the most. She never failed to make me miserable.

There was much to do once Claire arrived. Against my better judgment, I sent Amy to pick up the cake. I normally wouldn't have trusted her after last year's catastrophe but we were already two hours late as it was. Claire and I worked to remove all the valuables from downstairs and put them in the guest room, out of harm's way. We reorganized the living room furniture to make the room more spacious, and did an insane amount of cleaning.

"I thought you guys had a housekeeper," Claire huffed, wiping the sweat from her brow. 

"We do," I said as I mopped the dining room floor. "But she only comes on Wednesday... and with Amy and her friends around, this place is always a wreck before the next week comes around."

"I still don't see why you're bothering to clean this place up. It's just going to get trashed again anyway."

I sighed. She was right. That was one of the reasons I hated throwing parties. Sure, it was perfectly fine to go have fun and trash someone else's house, but doing the same to my own house was another story. I had wanted my mother to be there, to keep things from getting too out of hand, but that plan had obviously been changed...

"I don't care. I still want it to look good for beginning of the evening; I don't want anyone to have any excuse to say something bad about my party. This could seriously affect my success in high school, Claire. We have to make it perfect."

Claire rolled her eyes with a sigh and mumbled something in agreement as she carried her dust rag to another room.

Somehow, everything was ready in time. It looked exquisite, if I do say so myself. Silver streamers and Oriental paper lanterns hung from the ceiling of the living room in twilight-style lighting. The dining room table was covered with an expensive spread of food. The sunroom and the deck were both strung with red and blue Christmas lights, and tiki torches in the back yard gave the pool a glowing look to it. It was a little chilly for swimming, but I knew that wouldn't stop many people.

Claire and I lay sprawled across my couch, exhausted as we admired our handy-work. The door swung open and Amy walked inside carrying a white cardboard box. I crossed my fingers, hoping she hadn't ruined the cake.

"Dude," she said, glancing around the living room. "Very schway." She held out the box to us. "Here's your thingy... I almost forgot to bring it by." I got up to retrieve the cake, glad that she had brought it at all. She snickered. "Nice outfit, by the way. Is this a pajama party?"

I looked down at myself in shock. "Shit!" I squealed, realizing I'd forgotten one of the most essential parts of having a party: the outfit. I set the cake on a nearby coffee table and dashed upstairs. I hated getting ready in a rush, but luckily, beautification was one of my more prominent talents. I slipped into my bright blue sundress, molded my hair into perfect curls, and applied the ever-essential make-up.

When I returned downstairs, I heard dark, heavy metal pouring from the speakers. I saw Claire chatting with some of the other Freshman cheerleaders who had obviously shown up a few minutes early. The girls greeted me warmly, tossing out "Happy Birthday, You look fabulous, Love what you've done with the place, etc." I reciprocated with my best hostess-manners and then guided them in the direction of the dining room.

I turned to Claire once they were out of the room. "What in the world are you listening to?"

She grinned. "Dead Sea Scrolls. Haven't you heard them before? This is Ethan's favorite band, you know."

I rolled my eyes, walking towards the stereo to find a new selection of music. "As if I listen to his creepy hard rock stuff. Since when are you into this hate-the-world, have-to-scream-about-it music?" I replaced the Dead Sea Scrolls CD with Michelle Branch, and put the stereo into shuffle mode.

Claire shrugged. "I don't know... it's got a nice flavor to it. It's the only thing your retarded boyfriend has ever shown any good taste for. Oh, and I've got good news. I convinced Amy to fetch us a keg or two before she goes to that concert tonight."

I wrinkled my nose at the statement. Yes, I realized drinks were essential to most high school parties, but I had been desperately trying to avoid such a thing. I had to deal with enough drunkenness as it was... was it too much to ask that I have an alcohol-free birthday? But no, my life doesn't work like that. Give the people what they want, Sanders. You know how the game is played. "Um... Great. Thanks, Claire."

"Don't mention it." She leaned forward and gave me an affection peck on the cheek; it took all of my strength not to cringe in shock. She giggled. "Oh, I forget to ask... is this your fifteenth or sixteenth birthday?"

"I think we're going with sixteenth this year... I'm done hiding my age. In high school, I'd say it's better to be older."

People started showing up and soon the house was full of carefree adolescents. It was a fantastic turnout; mostly freshman and sophomores, but all my junior friends and even a few seniors were there as well. Popular music blended in with teen chatter and the room was alive with noise. Amy arrived shortly with two kegs and quickly left to catch her concert. I had purchased her tickets for the sake of getting her out of the house during the party. Now, however, I suddenly found myself wishing she would stay.

It was awful, but I acted like it was wonderful the whole evening. I made my rounds through the house, chatting with all the people that I could honestly care less about. I was radiant, flirtatious, friendly; always making sure that everyone was having a good time. No one ever made sure I was having a good time, but that was part of being me. Me, have fun on my own birthday? And waste a perfectly good opportunity to impress people and boost my social status? Not a chance.

At some point during the party, I noticed Lizzie talking to a sophomore boy, giggling and smiling and brushing her fingers through her bangs the way she always does. The boy was clearly taking a more-than-friendly interest, and I was shocked. Thinking about it for a moment, though, I realized there was nothing shocking about it. Lizzie was a beautiful girl. Why shouldn't guys take an interest in her? Still, I was bothered by it. I wasn't used to Lizzie getting attention like that. I wanted her to remain the awkward, unnoticeable girl she had been in middle school. The girl I could kick when she was down, the girl I could always use to prop myself up. I didn't want anyone to care about or want her. It took me a moment to realize jealousy was the emotion I was expressing. That was the reason I always kept Lizzie down… I was jealous of her, and what she might accomplish. I was worried she might be loved and adored by others, and I wanted to be the only one to do that.

Somehow, even over the noise of the party, I heard the phone ring. As I searched the living room for it, I had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that it was Amy calling from jail or something. I picked up the receiver and said hello, shoving a finger in my opposite ear and heading towards the back door for better hearing.

"Kate, it's Dad," said the voice on the other line.

I brightened. At least HE hadn't forgotten me on my birthday. It's true, my father wasn't the most affectionate or compassionate dad around, but at least I knew he cared. He knew he couldn't be there for me, but he never made promises he couldn't keep or pretended he was something he wasn't. It was somehow much easier to love him than it was to love my psychotic mother. "Hi, Daddy. How's your trip?"

"It's been hell, really, but it'll be smooth sailing by tomorrow morning. It always is. But I know you don't want to hear about old boring business stuff. I called to talk about your birthday present."

That's my Dad, all right. What he lacks in paternal affection he makes up for in material security. "Present, you say?"

"Of course. I wouldn't leave my daughter empty-handed on her sweet sixteen. You're mother was supposed to give it to you tonight, but...." He didn't finish his sentence. There wasn't any need to. "I hid it out in the garage. I know you're having your party now, but... whenever you get a minute, go check it out."

"Thanks, Daddy. But, uh, I'd better get back to my guests now."

"Sure thing, Kate. I'll see you in a few days. Oh, and your mother sends her love."

"I'm sure she does."

I carried the phone back into the house and put it in its cradle. As I did I saw Ethan, scarfing pizza. He smiled at me. "Hey, babe. This pizza is AWESOME, you know? Did you make it yourself?"

I sighed and shook my head at him. "No, sweetie, we ordered them. That's why they're in cardboard boxes that say, 'Charlie's Pizza'." He turned around and stared at the box on the table with a puzzled expression on his face. As he tried to unravel the mystery of it, I left the room and re-entered the living room where the party was still jumping. I grabbed the arm of a nearby boy and glanced at his watch. It was only nine-thirty, meaning the party would rage on for a few more hours at least. I was already sick of it.

I thought of my present. Maybe it would cheer me up, I thought. There's nothing like an expensive gift to raise a girl's morale. Surely no one would notice if I snuck away for just a few minutes, right? I wove through the crowd indiscreetly and made a dive into the back hallway towards the garage. I was prepared to search the shelves to find it, but when I opened the door, I didn't have to look twice.

It was a car. A bright red Spyder, to be exact. I didn't know a thing about cars, of course, but I knew a hell of alot about what was popular, and this was the car my peers were always talking about. I walked towards it, touched it softly. It was colorful, shiny, and new, the way I like all my things. I smiled at it as my mind raced with possibilities. With a car, I could go places. I could leave whenever I wanted to, without calling a friend or having to walk. I wouldn't be forced to deal with Amy or my mother. I could just... go.

The door creaked open. "Whoa, sweet wheels," said a voice. I turned and saw Nic Barnum, in all of his smarminess, staring right at me. "Is that your car?"

"Yeah," I said, trying not to sound too excited about it. I didn't want to give Nic the idea that I was actually interested in having a conversation with him.

He walked towards me with a cheesy smile plastered on his face; I could smell beer on his breath. He placed his hand tenderly on the sleek red hood of the car. "It's a gorgeous piece of work..." He looked up at me and stared into my eyes. Did he really think that was going to work on me? Did he honestly believe I didn't know every staring trick in the book? "Just like you."

I snorted. "Don't even start with me, Nic. I'm not interested."

His eyes flared up with frustration and he brushed a hand through his greasy hair. "What is it with you, Kate? We flirt together ALL THE TIME and you just give me the brush off."

"And how long have you lived in the fantasy world of yours, exactly?"

"Come on. You know you want this as much as I do." He reached out and touched my face, and I found fury rising up in me. What the hell made him think he had any right to touch me? Kate Sanders is her own boss and she decides who touches her. I had a strong desire to knock the crap out of him, and considering I was a good four inches taller than him with a cheerleader-build, I could have. But I stopped myself, because I saw someone else standing in the doorway out of the corner of my eye. I decided to let myself be rescued.

"No, Nic. Please stop..." I said in my softest, most helpless voice. Naturally, being the jerk he was, he took that as a sign to proceed. I let out a horrified yelp as he leaned in to kiss me. I pretended to try and push him off, screaming all the while, and he only held me tighter and tried to pin me down.

Right on cue, Jordan swooped in and pushed him harshly off of me. "What the hell are you doing?" he barked. Nic's eyes grew wide as he struggled to explain himself. He was clearly terrified of his older brother.

"I was just... she came on to me..." he stuttered.

"The hell she did. When a girl says stop, you stop."

Nic nodded vaguely, and before Jordan could say another word to him, he ran out the door. Jordan turned to me, shaking his head.

"Are you okay?" he asked, in his big-brother tone.

I kept up the defenseless victim routine. "Yeah I'm... I'm fine. I can't believe what just happened. We were just looking at my birthday present, and all of the sudden he was all over me. I feel awful... I should have done something to stop it. What will Ethan say?" If there were a Nobel Prize for bullshit, I'd win it.

Jordan sighed. "I apologize for that. My little brother's such an asshole. I'll take care of him later. Don't worry, it wasn't your fault. Guys are like that, you know... we don't always think with our heads. Especially if you get us alone with a pretty girl. But never get yourself in a situation like this, with a guy like my brother, all the way back here away from everyone."

I felt a little insulted that he was treating me like a child, since I longed to be accepted by people in his grade, but the fact that he called me a pretty girl didn't go unnoticed. I decided to turn the tables on him and change the subject. "Jordan, what are you doing back here away from everyone else?"

He laughed softly. "Oh. Yeah." He reached into his pocket and revealed a plastic bag of marijuana. "I've been trying to get away from Penny. Lately when I'm around her she won't let me smoke. She says it makes me look skanky." He sighed. "Girls. Hey, you wanna share it?"

I shook my head. "No thanks. I've got to stay alert, you know... make sure people don't destroy my house."

He nodded. "I gotcha. Well, will you at least hang around for a while? I'd feel stupid hanging out all alone in your garage."

I waited patiently as Jordan got high, leaning against my brand new car because there was no way I'd sit down on the ground in my new dress. Jordan was talking a mile a minute, spilling out all sorts of things that were on his mind. It was almost as if he spoke with a sense of urgency, like he wasn't used to having someone listen to him and he wanted to get everything out before he lost his opportunity.

"So next year things are really gonna be a drag between me and Penny," he was saying as he sat Indian-style on the floor. "Coz, you know, she'll be off at college but I've still got another year at Hillridge. Not that it's not already difficult... She's always acting like she's better than me. She thinks I should just my personality whenever I'm around her or something..." He laughed. "She definitely wouldn't let me get high around her."

I said nothing. There was no reason for me to say anything. I could tell that he was in his own world, getting his troubled mind out in the open for his own benefit. But then he surprised me...

"Why you try to be like them, Kate?"

I sucked in a nervous breath, somehow frightened of the question. I played dumb. "Be like who?"

"Aw, you know what I'm talking about. The Pennys. Why to want to be like them? There's nothing all that great about them. I've dated one for four months and let me tell you, they're completely bogus."

"I know that." How could I possibly explain it to him? How could anyone understand how badly I needed it, how there was nothing else for me? "It's just who I am."

Jordan laughed and shook his head. "No, man. That's not you. You're different." He pointed to his forehead with his finger. "You've got shit going on up here. You're... you're real, man. People would like you no matter what. You could just be yourself. You wouldn't have to be like one of them." He wrinkled his nose and got a far-away look in his eyes at the word "them."

I decided to quickly change the subject. "We'd better get back to the party... we've been gone awhile." 

Jordan nodded and reached out his hand to me. I grabbed hold and helped him to his feet. He paused for a moment, and then startled me with a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks for listening, man."

"Uh... no problem. Any time."

Throughout the rest of the night, Jordan's words buzzed in my mind. "You're real." I couldn't even think of statement that was more untrue. He didn't know what he was talking about. I _did _have to be like "them." It was the only thing I knew how to do, the only thing that made me complete. I was anything but real. I was just a girl trapped inside a shell, while someone else ran all the controls.


	16. Fifteen: A Long Night

Author's Note: This story's rating has been raised to "R" because of violence, language, and strong thematic elements.

After all the excitement and unexpected turns of those two weeks, my life began to drift back into a predictable routine. There was still the constant pain and uncertainty I felt inside, but like always, I was able to push those feelings aside and go through life like an automaton.

I grew used to Claire. Her affections only grew deeper over the next few weeks, and she started getting overly attached to me. I still hated her touch and even felt angry inside because there was nothing I could do about it, but somehow it became a natural part of the routine. There were so many things in my life that I hated doing or being a part of, but I did them anyway. What was one more?

Nic backed off completely. He no longer harassed me in science class, and he spoke to me only when necessary. This much was a relief. I was also pleased to see that Jordan was much more eager to hang out with me. This was a terrific boost to my social status, but at times it could be something of a bother. He seemed to think of me as his confident, and came to me whenever things were bothering him. I often grew sick of listening to him complain about Penny, his parents, and the cruel cold world in general. His company was more than welcome, but there were times when I just wanted to scream at him, "Suck it up!"

My relationship with Penny became stronger, as well. I suddenly found myself spending a huge amount of time with her. It was true that I was more of her lackey than her friend, but I was aware of how the ascent of the social ladder was organized, and I was not timid when it came to climbing. I took this opportunity to make connections with other upperclassmen, familiarize myself with the workings of Hillridge hierarchy, and watch Penny's every move for tips on how to live throughout the rest of my high school career.

And like always, there was Lizzie. She was always there, right in front of my eyes and deep in my thoughts, and yet she wasn't a part of my life at all. It was so surreal for me to watch her. She would always be living her life, and I would be living mine. There was no common thread between us, and yet a day didn't go by when I didn't think of her. She was the hidden part of me, the part that just stayed in the back of my head and watched while Kate went through the motions of every day.

Outwardly, my life was the best it had ever been. Things were looking simply superb for me at school. I was nominated the Freshman representative for the Homecoming Court, and my social rank was on the rise. High school was quickly becoming home to me as I fell into my niche. On the inside I was always aching and miserable, but that much was to be expected. The fact was, my fake outer shell was finished. I accepted this routine and was completely prepared to ride it out for the rest of my high school days.

But in late October, on the week of homecoming, things began to turn in radical directions. And everything changed.

"Dead Sea Scrolls, baby, yeah!" howled Ethan. He had come up to me at lunch, clutching two tickets with sheer joy.

I sighed and gave him a look. "Why don't you take Nic?" I said impatiently, not at all eager to attend a heavy metal concert.

He frowned. "But you've got to check these guys out, Kate. They're so, like..." Rather than describe them in words, Ethan proceeded to swerve his head back and forth with vigor as he furiously plucked an air guitar.

"I'm sure they are, but that doesn't mean I'd be caught dead at that concert."

"I'll go," chimed in Claire. Both of us turned to look at her. It was unusual for Claire to be willing to spend time alone with Ethan. Then again, she had mentioned liking Dead Sea Scrolls.

Ethan was hesitant. He looked pleadingly at me, but my face was set; not even his puppy dog eyes could get me to that concert. "Well... okay. I'll come pick you up around seven tonight, Claire."

"Stellar." Claire paused and looked over at me. "That is okay, isn't it, Kate?"

"Of course. Have fun, both of you." Sure. My boyfriend and girlfriend going on a date together. Why not? It's not like my life could get any more twisted.

As I settled in to relax that evening, I suddenly became aware of an intense freedom. There was no Claire or Ethan around to bother me. I had the whole night to myself, and for the first time in my teenage life, that was actually a comforting thought. Having two significant others was exhausting. When you weren't with one, you were with the other. It was a relief to know that I could, for one brief moment, have time to enjoy myself and let my thoughts settle. I popped a bag of popcorn, slid in my Bring It On DVD, and curled up on the couch for a night alone.

At some point during the movie, I dozed off. I awoke later to the ring of my cell phone, just as the end credits were rolling.

"Hello?" I said.

I heard sniffles and moans on the other end. "Kate," said a crying girl. She broke into sobs.

"Penny? What's wrong?"

I could hear her sniffle some more and swallow her tears. She spoke again, slightly more calm. "I'm in trouble, Kate. I can't explain it over the phone, but... could you come over? And then... then I need a ride into the city."

"Um, sure thing, Penny. But, what are we driving to the city for?"

Her voice softened. "I need a ride to the abortion clinic."

"WHAT?"

"Just come over," she said in between frantic sobs. "I'll explain everything."

Penny gave me directions to her house, and I hurried over. As I arrived in her neighborhood, I was confused. It was on the far edge of Hillridge, just fifteen minutes from Jefferson, the city of which Hillridge was a suburb. The houses were small and dilapidated; many were abandoned and boarded up. A dim streetlight illuminated thuggish teens wandering around. They eyed me with cold curiosity, and I realized I must have looked like a total freak, driving a brand new Spyder in that neighborhood.

I found the address Penny had given me; it was a duplex. She was waiting in the yard, and when she saw me she dashed into the passenger's side of the car. She kept her eyes on her lap. I looked at her for a moment, bewildered. 

"I know," she said, still not looking up at me. "I know. I live in Skanksville. I didn't want you to see where I lived... but I didn't have much of an alternative." She looked up at me, her face stained with tears. "You were the only person I could trust."

I swallowed, nodding vaguely. "Um... so, what happened?"

"Let's get out of here, first. I'll explain on the way."

I obeyed and pulled out of her driveway, leaving behind the last neighborhood I would have expected to find Penny Hawkens in.

"Jordan was supposed to take me," she said softly as we drove through the night. It was at least a half-hour drive. Penny was so different from any way I'd ever seen her. She was tired and miserable, and her voice lacked its usual confidence and eloquence. "His father called in a favor, to have it done after the clinic was closed, and to keep it quiet. But I can't get hold of Jordan..." She started sobbing for a moment, and turned to me. "Thank you so much, Kate. I can't thank you enough."

I smiled weakly, trying to reassure her. She sighed and laid her head against the car door. "So... so Jordan is the father, right?" I asked, not stopping to think it might be an insensitive question.

Penny did not answer. Instead, she only started crying again.

"He's not? He's not the father?"

Her cries grew louder.

"Then who is the father?"

I waited with intense curiosity. Penny cried for a minute longer, clutching her face with her hands as if she were battling her own thoughts. She threw her head back in the chair and looked skyward, sighing heavily. "I don't know," was her defeated reply. "It could be anyone."

"What do you mean, anyone?"

"I mean it could be anyone, damn it!" As if she had been holding it all in, her thoughts started pouring out. "I mean I'm the biggest slut Hillridge has ever seen, okay? I admit it. I mean, you've seen where I live. You think someone from that neighborhood could possibly get as popular as I am without help? You think I could possibly afford all my shit without a little outside income?" She laughed bitterly to herself, tears pouring from her eyes like rain. "This is my life! I wanted to be at the top and, damn it, I am!" She began slamming her fist on the car door as she spoke. "No one out there has the nerve to say I didn't earn this! Everyone else had their perfect little worlds handed to them on a silver platter. But me? I sacrificed every shred of dignity I had to get what I have." She laughed again. "Remember that essay, Kate? State recognition. I got money for college from that essay. You think I wrote it? Hell no I didn't write it. I slept with Baxter fucking Thompson to get that essay..." Suddenly, she turned to me and placed her hand on my shoulder. "Be grateful, Kate. You're already rich, beautiful, and smart. You can have everything I had, without having to lose who you really are." She buried her face in her hands, sobbing.

I tried to say something, but words never came. She didn't need to hear my false comfort, anyway. She wasn't even talking to me. She was just letting it all out. The rest of the drive was in silence.

At last I pulled into the parking lot of a gray square building. A fading sign read, "Harper's Community Clinic." There were only two other cars in the parking lot. Slowly, Penny crept out of the car and we walked towards the clinic without talking. Someone opened the door for us and we stepped inside. A woman with cropped red hair and glasses greeted us. She wore a white lab coat and held a clipboard in her hands.

"Penny?" she asked, looking at the two of us over the rims of her thick glasses. 

"Yes, that's me," Penny replied in a quiet voice, staring at her feet.

The woman looked at me. "Are you her ride?" she asked. I nodded.

"All right then. We have everything set up, Penny, whenever you're ready."

"Do I... do I need to sign anything?"

The woman smiled, but in a sarcastic sort of way. "No. Don't worry about anything like that. Mr. Barnum has already taken care of everything." The woman held out her arm to Penny, motioning for her to follow. The two of them disappeared through a side door, leaving me all alone in the waiting room.

I took a seat in a corroding orange plastic chair, sighing. The current happenings were still soaking in. So the elite Penny Hawkens was not everything she seemed to be. I couldn't help but be impressed by the brilliance of her disguise. The irony of it was too remarkable to go unnoticed: the person I had admired most in the world was the biggest fraud of them all.

I looked around the waiting room with its informational posters and buzzing florescent lighting. I wondered how many young girls came to this place everyday, sitting in these hard plastic chairs reading Seventeen while they waited for their numbers to be called. Watching the side door with fear and curiosity, waiting to see the looks on the other girls' faces when they left. I wondered how many of them came with their mothers, or how many came with boyfriends or maybe just a random friend. I wondered what it must feel like inside to have gone through this decision.

I thought about my own mother. It was common knowledge that I was unwanted. My mother was too beautiful, too special to be burdened with something as dull as raising a child. Did she ever consider coming to a place like this? Would she have had my father "call in a favor" and come to Harper's Community Clinic after hours, so that no one would ever know? I knew in my heart that she must have at least considered it. In the corners of my mind, I mused over which was worse: to let the child live but never love it, or to end its life before it begins.

I was starting to nod off when Penny finally came back through the door a few hours later. She looked nauseated and exhausted as the woman gently led her by the hand. The woman handed me a small plastic container.

"Make sure she takes two of these as soon as she gets home," she said. She turned to Penny, who still looked a little out of it. "You're going to bleed for awhile... change your pad as often as necessary but don't use a tampon. The nausea will probably persist for a few more hours. Just get some sleep. You can take two more of these in the morning."

Penny nodded and thanked her. I stood up and helped her out the door and back to my car. I only hoped we wouldn't get pulled over, as it was hours past curfew. I tuned the radio to an upbeat pop station to keep my mind from wandering as I drove. When we arrived at Penny's house, I had to help her out of the car and into her house. It was so strange, walking through her house. Magazines and used dishes littered the living room floor; there was a stereo and television resting on a piece of plywood laid across two plastic milk crates. Penny directed me past the living room and through the 70s-ish avocado and yellow kitchen to her bedroom.

She got comfortable beneath her covers, moaning slightly about the pain. I got a glass of water for her and gave her two of the white pills in the plastic container.

"Thanks, Katums," she said softly, turning over on to her side. Within a few seconds she had drifted off to sleep.

I twisted a lock of hair around my finger nervously. I wasn't keen on hanging around in Penny's house all alone. I nudged her shoulder gently. "Penny," I whispered.

"Huh?" she replied sleepily.

"Are you going to be all right? Because I really need to get home…"

"Oh... sure thing. Go on."

I set the bottle of pills on her nightstand. "Here. I'm leaving your medication right here, okay?" She grunted weakly in reply, meaning she was already falling back asleep. I tiptoed quietly out of her house and back to my car, where I wasted no time in getting out of that neighborhood.

By the time I walked through the door of my house, I was exhausted. This whole unexpected adventure had me feeling somehow unclean. I combed my fingers through my hair as I slunk through the entryway, tossing my keys onto the small table by the door. I wanted nothing more than to head straight upstairs and crash right into my mattress...

"Look what the cat dragged in," said a voice. I turned away from the stairs and walked into the living room, where my mother was sitting in the dark green recliner with her feet propped up on the coffee table. She took a swig of the glass she held in her hand.

I sighed. "Not now, Mother. I'm really tired..."

"I'll just bet you are." She glared at me with cold, bloodshot eyes. "Why don't you stop a minute and tell me where the hell you've been all night."

"I had to help a friend." I met her icy gaze with equal intensity. I wasn't about to let her intimidate me.

She laughed coldly and shook her head. Her body flopped around like jelly as she sat there laughing at me. "So I guess you must think you're really something now, huh? What a big girl you are... think you can leave whenever you damn well please without telling anyone?"

I assumed she was pretty plastered. "It was an emergency."

"Oh, it was, was it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, Mom. What, don't trust me?"

"As a matter a fact I don't. I know just what goes through the heads of little girls like you and I won't be tricked."

I couldn't help but laugh. "No offence, Mom, but you couldn't possibly know what goes on in my head. You don't know anything about me."

She smiled evilly. "I know about you and your little colored friend fooling around all the time." She had a dark expression on her face, as if that statement sickened her, yet gave her pleasure because it was something she could use against me. She raised her voice. "And I know about all the liquor that's gone missing. In fact, missy, let's start talking about EVERYTHING that I don't know about you..."

I fought to keep a neutral expression on my face. "I don't know what you're talking about. Just what is your problem tonight, anyway?"

"My problem?" She angrily rose to her feet, stumbling as she did so. She drunkenly staggered towards me, pointing her index finger at me with the glass still in her hand. "My problem is YOU." 

Hasn't that always been your problem, Mother? I thought bitterly to myself.

She continued ranting, taking sips of her drink every so often. "My problem is your behavior. I can tell you something right now, young lady, you are grounded!"

"Uh! Grounded?" Since when did my mother ground me? When did it suddenly dawn on her that she's a parent? "Who's going to enforce that? You? You're never here! You don't have control over my life."

"Don't sass me, young lady. I'm not going to stand for this! I'm not going to put up with you thinking you can just cruise around at all hours of the night doing God knows what and get away with it!"

"What, are you afraid I'm having more fun than you are?" 

Her eyes flared up with anger. "Shut your mouth..."

"Come on, Mom, you and I both know what the real issue is here. You could care less about where I am or what I'm doing. It's not about me. It's about you. Look at yourself! You're a miserable mess, and you know you it. The only thing you can do is bring me down to make yourself feel better."

"Don't talk to me like that! I am your mother!"

I shook my head and spoke softly. "No, you're not..."

I felt a heavy hand smack my face hard. I touched my cheek, which stung, and looked at my mother. My eyes widened in fear as I saw her vicious, angry eyes staring back at me.

"Listen, you raunchy piece of filth, I made you. I have made so many sacrifices over these years..."

"Bull shit! You never sacrificed a damn thing for me! You were too busy loving yourself to even think about loving your own daughter."

She got even angrier, and raised her hand again. I quickly moved away, scared she was going to hit me again. "Don't talk about things you don't understand, little girl. I will put you in your place." She threw down her glass, shattering it into to pieces. "Why... I mean, what is it in this house? Every day... I'm so sick of being stuck in this house!" She began to trip over her words, muttering and sobbing incoherently to herself. "No one ever cares about how I feel... you don't care, your father doesn't care... Do you know how many women want to be me? I never yelled at my mother when I was your age..." She came after me again, whacking my head repeatedly, shrieking so much that I couldn't understand a word she was saying. I backed away as she hit me, too shocked to do anything else in my defense. Finally her nonsense rambling shifted into one phrase, over and over again as she pounded me, "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

I gathered my strength and shoved her away from me. She staggered backward and fell to the ground. "You're fucking crazy!" I shouted. Frantically, I looked for my keys and cell phone.

My mother started to break down in tears, sputtering out more sentences that didn't make any sense. She ungracefully climbed onto the couch and sat there with her face smothered in her hands. I took one last look at her before marching out the front door, making a point to slam it hard behind me.


	17. Sixteen: Falls Apart

I did not cry. I kept mumbling nothing phrases like, "…finally cracked... I can't believe it... Oh my God..." But tears never came. Your mother can only push you to tears so many times in your life before you just begin to numb yourself to her.

I dialed Claire's cell phone number. Half-asleep, she answered.

"I need to stay at your place tonight," I told her.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, everything's fine. But I just can't stay at my house tonight."

After Claire and I hung up, I began to think about the last image of my mother I'd seen before walking out the door. She was sitting there, looking miserable, almost too drunk to hold up the weight of her own head. She was probably still there, sobbing to herself, mumbling about how no one loved her. When it was all said and done, she was always the victim. She always expected _me_ to feel sorry for _her_.

The sad thing was, I did feel sorry for her. It was so easy to be callous to others; I felt no loyalty to anyone and it was nothing to ruin someone else's life for my own benefit. But it was different with my mother. I hated to see her in pain. And she was always in pain. Even when she was happy, you could see in her eyes that she was screaming. I always found myself wishing there was something I could do to make her stop feeling so lousy.

Of course, it was these emotions that gave way to all the anger I felt. I didn't want to love her, but for reasons beyond my control I couldn't help it. There was a constant storm within me, because I had such strong affection for someone I hated so much. Maybe, deep down, I wanted to believe there was still hope of her coming back from the dark side. Or maybe I was afraid to truly hate her, because she was a reflection of myself. She was an image of what I might become. It killed me to look at her, drunk and lonely. Is that what would happen to me? Would I resort to sitting around all day, feeling sorry for myself and drowning my sorrows in a bottle of vodka? Would everyone around me end up hating me?

I would give anything not to become my mother.

I didn't have to knock when I arrived at Claire's house. She opened the door and took me upstairs, where she allowed me to take my pick from her drawers for something to sleep in. It was only after I was dressed and ready to go to bed that she attempted to speak to me.

"So," she said. "What happened?"

"I got in a fight with my mom. She went totally medieval on me and started smacking me. I decided to motor."

Claire's eyes widened. "Oh my God, Kate. Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

I laughed, but it was weakened with pain. "Of course not. Have you seen how tiny my mother is? Besides, she was miserably drunk. If she had actually hurt me, I would have hit back."

"I always knew your mother was a lunatic. Well, don't worry. You can stay here as long as you need to."

I nodded in thanks. I remembered then what my mother had told me. She knew about Claire and I. It was painful in a way because I didn't want anyone to know about us. Maybe if I truly had feelings for Claire I wouldn't mind; I might even enjoy rubbing it in my mother's face, just to make some kind of statement.

We just sat there. After all that, I wasn't tired anymore. I kept thinking about everything; Penny, my mother... until it all just hurt my head too much. 

Claire interrupted my thoughts. "Kate, are you going to Homecoming with Ethan?"

I don't know how long we had been sitting there before she spoke, but it took me a moment to get out of my zone. "Huh? Of course I'm going with Ethan. He's my escort."

"Oh."

I looked at her. "Claire? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just... I thought maybe you and I could go together."

I laughed out loud. I honestly thought she was joking. She had to be. "Yeah, like that would ever happen."

"Why not? Why couldn't it happen?" She stroked my hair. "Are you my girlfriend or not?"

"Claire, you've got to be kidding. You know we could never let people know about us, let alone show up at a dance together. I don't even want to think about what our friends would say!" I giggled, trying to make light of the situation, but Claire's reaction was not quite the same.

She looked away, almost thinking to herself. "If they were really our friends, they would accept us."

Okay, now she HAD to be kidding. "Hello, Claire, where have you been? Do you _know_ our friends? Forget it. It's out of the question. Do you want to slaughter our reputation or what?"

She let out a heavy sigh. "Maybe I'm sick of my reputation, okay? I'm so tired of being a person that I don't want to be! Which is more important, Kate: me or your reputation?"

The question was something of a stab. I knew the answer to it immediately, and it definitely wasn't the answer she was looking for. "Claire, you're being completely unreasonable..."

"Am I?" She looked at me for a moment, her eyes clouded with a mixture of sadness, anger, and uncertainty. "Is it unreasonable for me to want to be honest with who I am and who I love? I fucking sick of playing the popular game."

I rubbed my forehead in frustration. "Please don't do this. It's been a long night and I don't have the patience."

She growled. "Well then get the patience, damn it! I'm trying to have a serious conversation here, and you're totally blowing it off like it's nothing."

"Ah, Christ." I rolled my eyes. "What do you want me say?"

"I want you to tell me you love me."

That was it. She crossed the line and used the "L" word. That was the point at which I absolutely snapped. All the anger and resentment I had been forced to hold back every time Claire touched me was suddenly released.

"Oh, wake up, Claire!" I fumed. "Did you ever actually think that you and I could function as an ordinary couple? Did you suddenly turn stupid and think 'true love' would conquer all or some crap like that?"

"I just--"

"Get real! What, do you want to be gay with me or something? You want us to throw away everything we've worked for and prance around school like freaking Gourda and Esmerelda? Was that the sweet, sappy image you had in your head? Us two, all alone, the proud Hillridge dykes?"

She paused, looking at me with searching eyes. Finally she exhaled and drew her eyes away from me. "I should have known," was all she said. She turned away and crawled into her bed. There was nothing more to be said. With a sigh, I turned off the light and got into bed on the opposite side.

We still weren't talking when morning came. The only thing Claire was willing to say to me was, "Yeah," when I asked to borrow some of her clothes. As I skimmed through her closet, I noticed she had acquired much more black than she used to have. It took me awhile, but eventually I found an outfit that wasn't too goth or too small.

I was more tired than words could describe. I felt like crap and I could barely keep my eyes open. Worst of all, all of my beauty products were at home, so I had to make due with Claire's assortment. I wanted badly to blow off school, but they were taking pictures of the Homecoming Court and I simply couldn't miss that. Claire and I rode to school in cold silence, and as soon as we arrived we parted ways. The tension had been unbearable, and I was relieved to get away from her. I was just ready to meet up with my friends, get the day underway, and slip into the routine that gave me so much comfort.

I noticed something out of the ordinary in the courtyard. There was a fairly large group of Freshman girls accumulated. They were talking and giggling excitedly, focusing all their attention on one girl in particular. It was even more unusual when I spotted Lizzie there, because I knew she didn't hang with a large crowd. I pushed my way through to see what the excitement was about.

"It's hard to describe," Miranda, apparently the center of attention, was saying. She was wearing a boy's letter jacket and grinning from ear to ear. "We were just head banging to the music together and... sparks were flying, I guess."

"Did he kiss you?" Veruca asked eagerly.

Miranda giggled and nodded. "I don't really want to kiss and tell... but it was awesome! Of course, I was so grounded when my parents found out how late we were out. But it was definitely worth it."

The giddy girls continued to throw questions her way. I was awed, wondering who could have possibly swept Sanchez off her feet. I inspected the letter jacket for a moment, and when I noticed a water polo patch on the shoulder, I gasped.

"Sanchez!" I screamed, hushing the chatter of the group. Everyone looked at me with wide eyes, as if noticing me for the first time. "What do you think you're doing in my boyfriend's jacket?!"

Everyone got quiet and looked away, and I got that unsettling feeling in my stomach that they all knew something I didn't. 

Miranda tried to act sensitive, but I could see that she was supressing a smile. She was patronizing me. "Well, alot of things happened last night... didn't Ethan tell you?" She sighed with fake guilt. "Gosh, this just feels so awkward."

I could have punched her. But I didn't want to break a nail.

"Um, Kate?" said a voice behind me. I turned my head, along with all the other girls in the circle, and saw Ethan standing there. "We need to talk."

I could feel the excitement bubble up in the girls around me; they were having the time of their teenage lives as they soaked in all the drama. This was normally the sort of excitement I lived for, but the sensation was completely different now that I was on the loser side of the situation.

I marched furiously over to Ethan. He was already wearing his puppy dog face, but its effect on me was less than zilch. "Ethan Donovan Craft, explain yourself right now! Because from the looks of it you've gone temporarily insane and done the stupidest thing you've ever done!"

"It all happened so fast, Kate. It was just like a movie or something..." He got a faraway look in his eyes, lost in the moment, but once he saw the fury in my eyes, he quickly came back to Earth. "Me and Miranda have been, like, talking and stuff lately and, like, she was in the seat right next to me at the concert and, like, we had this outrageous time together. I tried to call you after the concert but your mom said she didn't know where you were..."

"I don't care about the details, Ethan. Tell me what exactly is going on here!"

He shrugged, sighing heavily as a familiar goofy look spread across his face. "Well... I, like, fell in love."

"Ugh! Ethan, I don't have the energy right now to put up with your... retarded-ness! Now get over there, blow off Miss Sanchez, and get to work on extinguishing the rumor that you and I were ever separated, mmkay?"

He placed his hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes with disgusting sincerity. "I'm really sorry about this, Kate. But, like, the ways of love can't be controlled, you know? Me and you just don't have that spark anymore. Besides, I know you have someone else."

"What are talking about?"

"I already know about you and Claire." My eyes grew wide with fear and I opened my mouth to speak, but he kept going. "It's okay, dawg, I totally accept your 'lifestyle'." He made quotation marks with his fingers, the sad truth being that he was actually being sincere. "And I won't tell anybody, coz I know you want to keep it a secret. But we can't go out anymore. I'm in love with Miranda."

He gave me a peck on the forehead and walked away. I was speechless. I couldn't believe what had just happened. I had never been so humiliated in my entire life. I could feel my face turn pink; I felt like every eye in Hillridge High was upon me, judging and scrutinizing me. The combination of anger and mortification I felt was too much. Worst of all, I was alone. Any other day I would have at least had Claire beside me, ready to back me up and insult Sanchez. 

Wait. Claire. If Ethan and Miranda met up at the concert, why didn't Claire do anything to stop it? Anger sent my feet in motion, searching the courtyard for Claire. It didn't take long to find her. She was alone, leaning against a wall, and had been watching the whole thing with a smirk on her face.

"You did this, didn't you?" I asked her coldly. Suddenly, it all became painfully clear to me. All those times she had been talking to Ethan and Miranda. She was the go-between; she was working to get the circumstances just right. She had been planning this all along. "You set the two of them up. You gave Miranda your ticket. You ruined everything for me." I shook my head, almost unable to take all of it in. "You're quite the jealous bitch, you know?"

"Yeah, so?" said Claire. "That's nothing new. I would think you'd be a bit more impressed with me. It wasn't easy, you know, getting Ethan to fall for Sanchez. It took me much longer than I thought it would. But, still, the whole thing was brilliant, don't you think? I mean, you never even suspected."

"You're so immature! Does this have to do with what you were saying last night? Have you been, like, planning this whole thing for months or something? Separate Ethan and I so you can move in and sweep me off my feet? God, Claire, how fifth grade."

There was a flicker of pain in her eyes, and I took pleasure in the fact that I had hit a sensitive spot. She pushed it away quickly though, and looked at me with a face of stone. "It's true that I thought without Ethan around, you and I might actually have a chance of growing closer. But I realized last night that that could never happen." She shrugged. "Oh, well. The work I did with Ethan and Miranda wasn't really a waste, was it? It's been extremely entertaining."

I glared daggers at her. I was just about to give her a piece of my mind when the voice of a passerby interrupted me.

"Uh-oh!" someone taunted. It was Nic Barnum. "Looks like the lovebirds are having their first fight."

"What are you talking about, Barnum?" I snapped. Claire said nothing. She just sat there and grinned.

He laughed. "Oh, come on, Kate. The whole school knows. But if you asked me, Ethan was a 'tard to dump you over it. If I was him, I would have kept you around. Who wouldn't want to have a lesbian girlfriend?" 

A lump the size of Alaska started to form in my throat. I looked at Claire, who was immensely amused by the whole thing. My head was about to explode. Claire's cocky grin, Nic's laughter, and the chatter of the girls still surrounding Miranda were spinning all around me. I felt sick to my stomach and flustered. So much to think about and deal with, and I was already so exhausted and weighed down with other thoughts.

I fled the scene. I ran from the courtyard, which was brimming with the giggles and juicy conversation of my peers. It seemed like every hushed tone or burst of laughter from the circles of people was because of me. It was almost like I could literally see the rumors and jokes whizzing through the air. My emotions were hurled back to the seventh grade, when the hottest topic was the rumor that Kate Sanders stuffed her bra. I remembered the pain, the paranoia, the desperate need to lash out. That was back when I was new at the whole being perfect and beautiful thing. Back when I still had something of a soul left in me.

But I was older now. Wiser, stronger. Right? I could deal with this, couldn't I? I tried to build my confidence back up as I leaned against the wall in one of the stalls. I took a deep breath and sucked back the tears that were threatening to fall. That's right, I said to myself. I could deal with this. A devilish scheme of as great of caliber as any of my others began to form in my head.

Kate Sanders was not going down without a fight.


	18. Seventeen: The Big Fucking Finale

I don't know what it is about sunsets in October. I guess it's just because orange is totally October's color. Whatever the reason, I had never seen a more delicious sunset than the one that evening at the Homecoming game. I stood on the fresh grass of the football field in my sparkly pink heels, feeling warm and shimmery as I looked out at the sinking sun in the orange sky. A breeze was lightly rustling the fabric of my dress, and I felt stuck in a surreal quiet.

Three years earlier, I never could have imagined myself experiencing that moment. If you had tried to tell me in the sixth grade that in my Freshman year I would be standing there, stoned, a member of the Homecoming court, dealing with all the shit that went down that day, and for the moment not caring about anything but that sunset, I would have laughed. It's funny how you spend so much of your childhood dreaming up the way you're going to be a teenager. You always imagine yourself to be someone completely different, someone better than the dumb kid you are. You think that someday you're going to wake up and suddenly be a teenager. You are magically transformed into that new person, like Cinderella. 

Only it doesn't happen that way. You just keep living the same old life, mundane and un-fairytale-like as it is. Nothing magical ever happens. There are no sparkles or spells or sweet moments with music playing in the background. You just are what you are. All those changes, those wonderful changes you longed for, happen without you ever even realizing it. You do become a new person, but it never feels that way. The changes occur in such a way that the new person you are feels just like the same person you've always been. 

It's not until one day, a day that can be horrible or wonderful or absolutely normal, that it dawns on you. It's when you get stuck in a moment like watching a sunset that you are able to just stop the world and take a good look at it. That's when you see the person you've become. You see yourself so clearly, and you finally understand that you're not the same person you used to be. You have all the memories of that old person, but try as you might you just can't seem to put yourself in those shoes again.

Today was horrible. And wonderful. And absolutely normal. Today was my day. That moment was my moment, the moment I finally saw myself.

"Miss Sanders, why are you in my office instead of your first period class?" asked a rather irritated Ms. Ungermeyer as she sat at her desk that morning. I had never liked Ms. Ungermeyer. She didn't eat out of the palm of my hand the way other teachers did, and that was something of an annoyance. 

"I'm so sorry about this," I told her in my sweetest voice, standing in front of her desk and looking innocent. I knew she wasn't buying my sincerity, but I played it out anyway. "I honestly considered coming between classes, but I thought it over and decided that it would be wrong of me to keep this inside any longer." 

Ms. Ungermeyer looked uninterested. "Oh, really?" She sighed. "I've got alot to do this morning, Sanders, so make it quick." 

"Thank you so much for your patience, ma'am. It's about one of my fellow students."

Dramatically, I began to spill a sad and tangled story. None of it was nessecary, of course, but I was going for truly scandalous melodrama here. Ms. Ungermeyer listened with a mouth hanging open, torn between her desire to ignore me and her inability to pull her interest away from my story. By the time I had finished speaking, I had worked up plenty of tears and taken a seat in the tacky rainbow chair in front of her desk. 

She sighed. "And you're absolutely sure of this?"

I nodded tragically. "Yes, ma'am. I don't see why she would make this up."

Ms. Ungermeyer leaned over and pressed a button on her intercom system. Moments later, the voice of the office secretary was heard through the speaker. "Yes?"

"Mrs. Hughen, find Penny Hawkens and Baxter Thompson and have them sent to my office immediately." She looked over at me. "You may return to class now, Miss Sanders."

I walked out of her office solemnly, but as soon as my back was turned, I was grinning. I walked through the halls and arrived in my journalism class. Heads turned and stared as I walked through the door. No doubt they had all heard the rumor about my "secret relationship." Claire's mouth was curled into a menacing smile as she eyed me. I felt the familiar sick frustration bubble up in me, but I was determined to act as though nothing was wrong. I was good at pretending, and I told myself this to boost my confidence.

I looked around the room, seemingly unaware of the eyes upon me, and shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh," I said to myself, though loud enough for everyone to hear. "So Penny's gone already." I walked to the back of the room, stopping briefly to explain my tardiness to our teacher, and started collecting my supplies the same way I did every day. Curiosity had been sparked in the room. I could practically see the way their wheels were turning; my peers were growing less interested in the scandalous things they had heard about me, and now more intrigued by why I was acting like nothing was different.

"Could you pass me that stack of pictures there, Kate," said Hope, a friend of Penny's, as she slid beside me at the back table.

"Sure," I said casually, reaching for her photos and handing them to her.

She had barely taken them in her hands when she moved the conversation to her real agenda. "So what were you doing? Why were you late?"

I hesitated, the way someone does when they have good gossip but know they shouldn't share it. Though everyone was busy with their own work and carrying on conversations of their own, I knew they were listening. "I had to go to Ungermeyer's office because of... you know, Penny."

"Penny? What about Penny?"

I sighed. "Oh, I really shouldn't tell. Things are bad enough for her as it is without having the whole school know about it."

Her eyes widened, her mouth watering at the prospect of such information. "Oh, come on, Kate. You can tell me, I won't tell anyone."

"I don't know..."

"For Christ's sake, I'm like one of her best friends. I deserve to know."

With false reluctance, I began to tell Hope the sad truth (or the embellished truth, if you will). By the time the bell rang to signal the end of the period, the entire yearbook staff was well informed of the scandalous actions of Penny Hawkens, and remarkably, none of them seemed interested in the "Kate Sanders" dirt any more. Not when there was even better "Penny Hawkens" dirt to spread around. I made myself scarce in the hallways in between classes. I didn't want to show my face until I was certain that people were sufficiently distracted by the news about Penny.

By lunch the whole school knew the story. It had been twisted and exaggerated and even translated into Spanish. Naturally, my table was quite popular. Everyone wanted to ask me about it, since I was the one who had heard it all "first-hand." I relished in the scrumptious spotlight of it all. I dished out the gruesome details, while of course acting as though it killed me to pass along such dreadful news. I was so in my element that I wasn't even fazed when someone slipped in a question about Claire and me.

I tossed back my head and chuckled. As far as anyone knew, such a comment was nothing to me, despite how much it ached inside. "Oh yeah, sure, I'm a lesbian and Claire is my lover," I said, waving it away dismissively. A few others laughed with me. "Whoever came up with that one has no imagination." I took a sip of my diet soda. "Oh, I almost forgot! Did I mention the neighborhood I drove Penny home to...?"

The rest of the day went by without any ripples. Hillridge began to bubble with the anticipation of the Homecoming game and dance. Several girls were carpooling with me to the hair salon after school, and then to the mall to pick up dresses. I was so excited about walking across the football field in my gorgeous pink dress. I would shine, people would "ooh," and the world would be back the way it was supposed to be.

Near the end of seventh period I was called to the office to pick up a package. I was perplexed as I walked up to the front desk, since I had no idea why anyone would be sending me something.

"Something to pick up for Kate Sanders?" I asked the secretary up front.

"Um... ah, here we go," the woman replied, picking up a vase of flowers and handing them to me.

I took the vase into my hands, feeling a mix of excitement and confusion. I mean, flowers are good. A girl can never say no to flowers. But who sent them? It had to be someone outside of the school, because I wouldn't be called out of class otherwise. I took the colorful card off the plastic stick and read it:

__

To our little Homecoming princess. We are so proud of you. Love, Mom and Dad.

For a moment I could only stare at it and think, "What the hell?" But slowly, I started to understand. This was my mother's way of saying that we should pretend like nothing happened last night. It was her way of "apologizing," even though she wasn't sorry. Putting Dad on the card was a nice touch; it gave it that whole "happy perfect family" thing my mother loved so much. Never in a happy perfect family would the mother get smashed and beat the hell out of her daughter. That part had to be edited out. Just send me flowers, call me princess, and we'll forget the whole thing ever happened.

The door from the back office opened and someone came out, sobbing. I looked up and was taken aback to see Penny Hawkens, bawling her eyes out. Her eyes were heavy and red. She looked nothing like the Penny Hawkens I had come to be familiar with. When she saw me her jaw dropped; her eyes grew saturated with tears and anger.

"Oh, my God, you little bitch," she croaked. "How could you do this to me?"

I gave her a look, feeling superior to her for the first time. It was an extraordinary feeling. "Why, what do you mean? I didn't do anything... except for tell the truth, that is."

"Fuck the truth! You have ruined my life! I'm being expelled! My boyfriend won't even speak to me... the whole god damn town is going to treat me like the Plague!"

I placed my hand on my hip and stared at her with a bored expression. "You know, that's such a bummer and all, but business is business. It's not anything personal. You know better than anyone how these things work..."

"Shut up!" She ran her hands through her deflated red locks as tears stained her light skin. She paced as she spoke, shaking and moaning. "Don't you get it? This goes way beyond some stupid high school scandal. You've ruined my life, damn it... you got me kicked out of school. I lost my scholarship! I CAN'T GO TO COLLEGE, KATE! You've screwed my entire future... you fucked up everything. And for what? A few god damn popularity points? Don't you have a single SHRED of humanity?" She gazed at me, incredulous, through watery eyes. She was crumbling right before me.

"No," I said, flipping my hair. "I don't." I turned and left her there, still sobbing. I didn't have time to hang around, after all. I had to get my hair done for the Homecoming game.

I was home by 5:30, my hair molded into a gorgeous French twist, my make-up done total pink, with a dress in a plastic bag slung over my shoulder. I was uneasy as I walked through the door. I was worried my mother would be there. I couldn't even fathom what she would say to me, but whatever it was, I knew it would be utterly "Mom." I was in no mood to handle anything even remotely "Mom."

But the house was empty. For once, I was glad to be alone. Everything had happened so fast this week. It was all a blur, and I was unable to really understand it all. All I knew was that I'd gotten through it somehow. I just stayed inside my head and watched as someone else ran the controls. I can always count on that someone to make sure Kate Sanders makes it out free of scars.

I had just enough time to change and eat before going back to football field. I had to be there early for the pre-game ceremony. It dawned on me that I would have to face Ethan when I got there, since regardless of our relationship status, he was still my escort. Well, I suppose considering all the other damage control I'd done that day, having to put up with my ex-boyfriend wasn't as bad as it could have been.

I went upstairs and slid into my princess-esque dress and shoes. I looked in the mirror and saw that I was just as unreasonably gorgeous as ever. Blonde, pink, perfect; I'm a Barbie doll. I went downstairs and started searching the kitchen for something to eat. It couldn't be anything messy or that required a great deal of effort to eat. I didn't want to risk messing up my make-up or dress. 

Before I could pick anything, the doorbell rang. I walked to the door and opened it, and saw a very pitiful-looking Jordan Barnum standing in my doorway. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag of pot, showing it to me. "Mind if I come in and drown my sorrows?" he said, his voice laced with the kind of shakiness of someone who has recently been crying. I slightly groaned inwardly at the thought of Jordan crying. It was sort of pathetic on his part. Still, knowing it was partially my fault, I nodded and led him upstairs.

We smoked together. I laid across my bed on my back in my shiny pink Homecoming dress, getting stoned with the quarterback. It was wonderful to let the toxins into my body, wiping away the uneasiness I had felt all day long. Things had gotten as bad as they could possibly get, but in that moment, I felt like everything was right again. Sure, rumors about Claire and me would still linger around, but people are always spreading some kind of crap about me. I was quite used to it. And after Homecoming, where everyone was sure to notice one of the Senior Court members missing, people would be so caught up in Penny Hawkens gossip, they could care less about little me.

Unfortunately, Jordan did not share in my contentment. He just sat there looking gloomy, bummed over Penny, and totally throwing off my good mood. I kept trying to crack jokes with him, but he would only sigh and stare into space. I suppose I never realized my actions would hurt anybody. I mean, I knew they would, but I didn't think it was going to work its way around to mess up my mood. Poor Jordan. He looked positively devastated. It was hard for me to understand why he was so upset about it, though, considering all he ever did we hung out was bitch about Penny. I suppose that's what people in love do, though. They feel awful when they've lost that love, even if it was a truly miserable experience.

People always ask cliché things like, "Why do fools fall in love?" I mean, isn't it kind of obvious? Love is foolish in itself. Fools are the only ones who do fall in love. Duh. Love is like high school. It's all a game, one big masquerade. It's all good and well to pretend, but once you start to really take it seriously, that's when you lose yourself. Once you start to actually _care,_ you're just setting yourself up for disappointment. 

Love is a whore of word. People will use it for anything. They will mask their insecurities and foolish mistakes with the excuse that "love made me do it." I've heard it everywhere, used and abused and misunderstood. Claire loved me. Jordan loved Penny. Gordo loved Lizzie. Ethan fell in love with Miranda. My mother pretends to love me. All of them are fools, because they think emotion should govern action. Love isn't real. Love is just an umbrella term for all the fucked-up things people do.

Jordan sighed heavily, coming out of his mournful state of contemplation. "Kate," he said. "I'm freaking hungry. You got any food?"

"I always have food, Jordan. You know the way to the kitchen."

He held out his hand to me. "Come with me."

I placed my hand in Jordan's and walked downstairs to our kitchen, where my guest helped himself to a bowl of Lucky Charms. I pulled up a seat across the kitchen table and watched him with mild fascination in my stoned state. The room was quiet, other than the mundane noises of the refrigerator humming, Jordan chewing, and spoon clanking against bowl. 

"You know what, man?" Jordan said in between spoonfuls. "I really don't feel like going to the game tonight."

"Oh, snap!" I said, as it all came back to me. "I forgot all about it. We should really get going, huh?"

Jordan laughed. "Yeah, I was supposed to be at the field house like half an hour ago. But who cares? For all anyone knows I'm standing around in a tux somewhere with Penny for that lame Homecoming thing." He laughed harder and continued shoveling Lucky Charms into his mouth.

I smiled at him. Through some twisted stoner logic, I almost began to believe that Lucky Charms brought good fortune.

"You know, you don't really have to go the field house at all. You could just escort me."

Jordan raised his eyebrows in interest and chewed as he thought. "Oh, yeah... I heard about you an Ethan. Sorry about that, man...."

"Don't be. I'm not sorry. A clean break is just what people need sometimes."

"Yeah. I wish Penny and I had a clean break. Did you know I never cheated on her? I could have, too. And it's not like I didn't want to cheat on her… six months is a long time to be with someone. But I still never did it. I've known her since we were eight. I've known all the stuff about her that no one else has any idea about. I could have hurt her, but I never did."

He was rambling again, and it was bothering me. However, I needed him for the moment, so I tried to be patient. "That was really sweet of you, Jordan."

"I know. But you know what's really funny? I looked out for Penny because she was my best friend. Because I loved her. I knew her and I loved her, and nobody else did. And the here's the funny part: you know what I learned about Penny today?"

"What?"

"That I never really knew her at all." He picked up his empty cereal bowl and tossed it into the sink. "Kate, can I kiss you?"

"Yeah, sure."

He placed his hand under my chin and moved his lips onto mine. It was done so smoothly and expertly. He acted like he'd been kissing me every day of his life. His lips and tongue felt new and refreshing; this was not Claire or Ethan, this was unexplored territory. He smelled like pot and football and expensive cologne. He tasted like Juicy Fruit and Lucky Charms.

He broke away casually. "Come on, let's get out of here. We'll have to stop at my place and get my tux."

The sun was just setting when I arrived at the football stadium. The band was warming up, the cheerleaders were stretching, and various members of the Homecoming Court were milling around on the field, touching up hair and make-up and no doubt feasting upon the Penny Hawkens gossip.

"I'm gonna go tell coach where I am," Jordan told me. "Just in case." He touched my shoulder lightly and started walking across the grass towards the field house.

Today had been so surreal, so endless. I felt like I hadn't stopped going from the time Penny called my house the night before to the moment I arrived at the stadium. But now everything was right again. I was going to walk across that field with the Homecoming court in my pretty pink dress. I didn't have to put up with Claire any more. Nobody cared about the stupid rumors. I got to make-out with Jordan Barnum. All was as it should be.

I know what people say about people like me. They put up with our crap because there's nothing they can do about it. The only thought that keeps them going is that sooner or later people like me will get what's coming to them. They assume that surely all the misfortune we've brought upon others will come back to haunt us some day. People look at me and think, "Some day Kate Sanders will get what she deserves." 

Well, here I am. I'll bet Claire thought today I was going to get what I deserved. I'll bet that would have made alot of people happy. I guess it's just too bad for them that today wasn't that day. If anything, I was a few steps ahead of where I was yesterday. There is no "getting what you deserve." You get what life gives you, and those of us who are smart are able to simply take whatever life left out. There is no mystic force that ensures that good things happen to good people, and bad things happen to bad people. That's the sort of make-believe in the same league as love and friendship.

I came out on top, like always. I was Kate Sanders, and like always, things turned out peachy fucking keen. The sun was setting on another beautiful day in my life.

That is when I understood it all. I stepped outside of myself and saw the person I'd become. When you're living your life you just can't see it. It was like McGuire said, you were just going through all the motions, not really understanding it. Like someone else was running the controls. I watched myself, watching the sunset, and for a brief instant I was able to grasp the emptiness of it all. 

I saw me. I saw who I was, and I knew there was nothing I could to change it. I could only go with it, and know that someday I would become someone else yet again.

Jordan came back to me. "Okay, they want all of the Homecoming court people to get together now," he said to me. I wondered how I could possibly hear him, when it was obvious that I was very far away. "They're going to take some pictures and stuff." 

He offered his arm to me, and I took it. "Okay," I said, painting on a smile. "Let's go." 

The football team won the Homecoming game, leaving Jordan in a much better mood than he had been a few hours ago. The two of us went to the dance together, amidst curious eyes and jealous glares. I saw Miranda and Ethan dancing together, and it was almost pleasant. What had been such a big deal to me that morning now was only a glimmer out of the corner of my eye. Who cared what Ethan did? I was me, and I didn't need him to keep things perfect.

I left Jordan around midnight to freshen up my lip gloss. My feet were killing me as I walked towards the ladies' room in my heels. I was honestly exhausted from everything that had happened, but I didn't dare suggest leaving. No one cool would go home this early. There would also be parties, of course, after the dance. A girl's work is never done.

As I walked into the bathroom, a stall door opened. Lizzie McGuire walked out. I paused, and she paused, and the two of just stared blankly at another while we wondered what we were supposed to say.

"Hey," she said.

I glanced at the stalls, making sure there was no one in them before I actually talked to her. "Hey."

She crossed to the sink and set down her dress-matching baby blue purse as she washed her hands. "You did a good job tonight."

"Thanks," I said dully. It's not like it was hard to walk across a field and smile. I went to the mirror, trying hard not to look at her. I pulled out my lip gloss and began smoothing it over my lips.

"So... that junior guy you were dancing with... Is he your date?"

"So to speak."

"Oh." She dried her hands and fidgeted where she stood. "Isn't that the guy... wasn't that Penny Hawken's boyfriend?"

"Yes, McGuire." I rubbed my lips together, snapped the lid back on, and turned to Lizzie. "Ethan dumped me and I came to the Homecoming dance with Penny Hawken's ex-boyfriend, whom I will probably be dating in the weeks to come. Any other questions?"

She looked away. "No. I was just curious." She turned to leave.

"Wait."

__

No, don't leave me, I thought. _I need you here._

Lizzie turned back around and gave me a strange look. "What is it?"

For the first time in many months, I finally felt like myself around her. I wasn't nervous or confused or upset with myself for feeling the way I did. 

I wanted it to be enough to just say, "Stay." But I knew it wasn't. It wasn't like that between us. It never would be.

"I just wanted to say... That's a nice dress. I mean, for a bargain buy."

Lizzie sighed and rolled her eyes. "Um, yeah, thanks. Yours is nice, too." She folded her arms and stood there impatiently, as if assuming there surely must be more to it.

"Yeah. Thanks." I leaned against the porcelain sink, too tired to stand on my own any more. Then, for some reason, I kicked off my shoes as well, letting my aching feet breathe. "I'm not sorry, you know? About any of it. There are times I've wanted to do things over... but tonight I realized that's stupid. The things I do are part of who I am." 

All of that came out of nowhere. As if, for some illogical reason, it seemed perfectly natural that I should spill my guts to Lizzie McGuire in the girls bathroom during Homecoming dance.

"You mean about leaving Gordo and Miranda in me in middle school?"

I laughed, rubbing my feet together. The fabric of my panty hose scratched against itself, and it felt soft on my skin. "That's not what I meant, actually. I mean, the same goes for that, but I was actually talking about what I did to Penny. Ruining her reputation and all."

Lizzie raised her eyebrow, jaw dropping slightly. "You did that? I thought you and Penny were friends. That doesn't sound like something you'd do..."

I smiled. "Bull shit. That sounds exactly like something I would do."

"I know." She did not smile. "But, I mean, not to one of your friends."

I sunk to the floor slowly, and leaned against the tile walls of the bathroom. "You were my friend, and I've done plenty of mean things to you."

She snorted. "Yeah, well, that's for sure. But you said it yourself; you and me could never be friends again. It's people like Penny Hawkens that you're friends with now."

"No, it's not like that. I don't really have any friends. Every one is just a name and a face. They're just... statistics... in a calculated paradise." I laughed at myself. "Calculated paradise. That's good. I'm pretty fucking poetic."

Lizzie squat down beside me and gave me a sincere look. "That sounds pretty lonely to me."

I looked into her wide blue eyes. So full of concern for me, even though she knew what a cruel person I could be. "But it's not. I mean, really. It gets pretty messed up sometimes, but it's all part of who I am. I don't need you to feel sorry for me, McGuire. I really don't. I've got it all figured out. In fact, if it wasn't for you, my life would be perfect."

"Me? What did I do? You're the one that's always ruining my life."

And what I should have done then was walked away. I should have left right then, and returned to Jordan. I could have easily forgotten about an encounter with someone as insignificant as Lizzie McGuire. I could have gone to bed that night knowing I had fixed every blemish in my perfect life. That would be the easy thing to do. 

But, hey, I was Kate Sanders. Easy was so last year. I now knew that it was okay to have moments that were less than beautiful. I need those moments to make it through. So for a minute there, I didn't care that my life was still just inches away from spinning out of control, or that my mother was still a lunatic, or that Claire was probably plotting another revenge scheme. I didn't care that everything was empty, and that nothing really made any sense. I didn't care that after this moment was over, everything would go back to the way it was.

Because for a minute there, I wasn't Kate Sanders. And she wasn't Lizzie McGuire. I was just me, kissing a girl that was just her.


End file.
